


I still think of you and everything you put me through

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Non Explicit Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' life splits into two drastically different directions depending on whether he catches an early morning train. Based loosely on the film Sliding Doors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [ reel_1d challenge. ](reel-1d.livejournal.com) Massive thanks to [ Katie ](http://bisousniall.tumblr.com) for the beta! And also to the mods over at reel_1d :)
> 
> Title from Think Of You by ms mr
> 
> Sliding Doors follows two parallel storylines depending on whether Louis gets on a train or not. I found that it would be too confusing to alternate between the two as shown in the movie so part i & iii are one storyline with ii & iv being the other. If it's too confusing, feedback would be appreciated. Thanks :)

**Part I**

 

“We’re very sorry Louis,” Annabel, the fucker from HR smiles sympathetically at him across the table. Louis nods, he’s still in shock mostly but he can feel the flicker of anger working it’s way up the back of his throat. 

“And is there any particular reason?” he asks, biting his tongue on any swearing he would quite like to do. His tone still sounds bitter and Annabel simpers across the shiny mahogany. 

“Oh no,” she shakes her head and waves her hand at his file, unopened and obnoxiously thin in front of her. “Just we need to cut down on some staff, the recession hasn’t been kind to us, you know that. Sadly it’s becoming a matter of last in, first out.” 

Louis glares at her, he knows perfectly well that she was hired a whole three months after he was but he supposes bitterly, she has her Chanel Rouge stained lips (shade 23 - _discrete,_ makes her look haggard and anything but) wrapped around Mr. Cosgrove’s dick every other lunchtime so he shouldn’t be really all that surprised that she’s still got a job. 

“Was this about the vodka?” Louis asks because he can’t bite his tongue anymore. He spares a brief thought to Liam, poor Liam who still hasn’t managed to find his dream job and is probably still lying in their bed at home. If he was here, he would shush him and pull at his wrist, fluttering his big eyes until Louis backed down. But he’s not, so fuck it. “Because it’s all a big misunderstanding. Look, it was my boyfriend’s birthday and we needed some booze for the party. You know how it is, it was my job to pick up a few bottles after work and well - “

“It is not about the vodka,” Annabel murmurs but the way her lips are flicking up into a smirk makes Louis thinks otherwise. 

“It fucking is, isn’t it?” Louis demands, his temper getting the better of him. He can see the others in the office turn to look at him and he really hates whatever bloody neo-modern, minimalist shitty architect that thought it would be a great idea to build the whole office out of glass. “I bought him some to replace it, I don’t know why he’s still got his knickers in a twist! I even got him nicer stuff than that cheap crap he tries giving out to clients.”

“Louis, no one’s knickers are in a twist,” except Annabel does look a little ruffled. “Especially Mr. Cosgrove’s.” 

“Oh and you would know wouldn’t you?” Louis snaps. He pulls his jacket from where it’s slung over the back of the chair and shrugs it over his shoulders. His tie feels tight so he yanks at it and watches the flush that works up over Annabel’s cheeks with a sick twist of satisfaction. 

“I don’t - don’t know what - “ she stutters and glances back down at the manila folder sitting in front of her. Louis doesn’t think it’s even been opened the entire two years he’s been here. 

“Face it, everyone in the office knows you two fuck every Thursday in his office,” Louis tells her and watches as she goes even pinker. She stutters out something that‘s supposed to be a denial and Louis can‘t help roll his eyes. “The whole place is made of _glass._ “

He turns then, not wanting to watch her squawk and trip over her words any longer. He can see Harry smirking at the far end of the office and grins over at him. A few of the other people in the room are watching him but Louis doesn’t take any notice. His hands feel tingly and he’s brimming with nervous adrenaline at getting one over on Annabel but ultimately it’s anger bubbling in his belly and he would quite like to punch something. 

He doesn’t though, taking a deep breath and imagining one of the silly little lines Liam would feed him to keep him calm, thumb rubbing at the back of his neck while his other hand circles around his waist.

“It’s not worth it,” he would whisper into his ear and Louis can take a deep breath again, Liam’s voice in his head alleviating the tightness in his chest. He blinks and he’s back in the room, eyes on his cluttered desk.

“Goodbye everybody,” he singsongs while he grabs his bag off the floor beside his desk. Hardly anyone looks up, behind him Annabel has slunk into Mr. Cosgrove’s office and everyone seems much more interested in the conversation going on in there and rightly so - Louis would stay to catch the gossip but he’s not all that interested anymore so he sends one last grin over at Harry before walking out of the office. 

It’s cold out and Louis has to pull his coat tighter around his chest as he walks down the street. The steps to the Underground are just round the corner and it only takes him a few minutes to reach the train. The doors are just closing but he’s able to slip through them just before they shut and he collapses into the nearest chair before his legs give out on him. 

The adrenaline is all gone now and it’s finally hitting him that he’s just been sacked. 

“Fucker,” Louis mumbles to himself, imagining that dickhead Annabel in his head again, simpering smile and that I’m-dead-inside look in her eyes. He pulls roughly at his bag and sets it on his knee to rummage through. The train’s nearly empty, all the commuters safely at their jobs - the dickheads! - but Louis needs to find something to do with his hands before he goes stir crazy. 

“They’re Beatles lyrics aren’t they?” 

Louis looks up and does a double take. The boy beside him is ridiculously cute, all blond hair that’s flopping over his forehead a bit and bright, bright eyes that’s set off by the shirt he’s wearing.

“What?” Louis asks as his fingers find his phone amongst all the crap at the bottom of his bag. The guy grins at him and nods over to the girl beside him, earphones in her ears, jumper pulled up to her elbow and swirling Sharpie onto the skin underneath. She looks like she’s bunking off school and Louis has no idea what the smudged sentences across her wrist mean. 

“Beatles lyrics,” he nods over to the girl again and when Louis glances back at her she’s glaring. 

“Fuck off,” she snaps and gets up. Louis looks back at the guy but he hardly looks fazed, in fact he looks a little bit gleeful - this is exactly why Louis doesn’t speak to people on the tube. It’s quiet in the carriage except for the loud clack of the track and whoosh of air and he’s sure that the boy beside him has gathered the majority of the occupants stares. 

“Sorry, don’t know them,” Louis tells him as politely as he can muster and goes back to flicking through his phone. He has a message from Harry - _Annabel’s in tears, come back + bask in the glory_ \- and then the boy’s speaking again. 

“What?” he demands, turning fully to the side to look at him. Louis glances up again and then away, because he looks pretty in the fluorescents and Louis doesn’t want the thought of how attractive he is sway him in his initial opinion that he’s batshit. “Everyone knows Beatles lyrics.” 

Louis shrugs, flicking over a menu without replying to Harry and going for Angry Birds. He’s stuck on the level with the pigs and all the ice that takes ages to break - it probably won’t help for his frustration but he has no patience to mess with anything else today. “Don’t pay that much attention to them mate.” 

It’s flippant and by turning his shoulder around he makes it clear that the discussion is over. Beatles Boy has other ideas though. 

“It’s basically an institution for you Brits,” he complains, shaking his head and it‘s the first time Louis really notices his accent, definitely Irish but slipping in a way that Louis can tell he‘s been in London for a few years. The girl had the right idea about moving. “Yesterday,” he starts and Louis glances around because who in their right mind starts to sing on the tube at half ten on a Tuesday morning? “All your troubles seemed so far away.” 

Louis snorts because his troubles did seem non existent yesterday. The boy cocks an eyebrow at him and Louis turns back to his Angry Birds, ignoring the excited flush that creeps down his neck.

“Now it looks as though they’re here to stay,” he continues and Louis is feeling a twinge of embarrassment just being beside him but for some reason he can‘t fight the smile threatening to slide onto his face. “Something, something, something, _yesterday._ ” 

“Yes.” When he looks up again the guy is grinning back at him. “ _Everyone_ knows the lyrics, don‘t they?” 

The guy laughs, ducking his head and shrugging with one shoulder. They’re pressed so close together that it sort of jostles Louis’ shoulder too. There’s plenty of space on the train but Louis doesn’t move. 

“I’m Niall,” he introduces himself, hand out and ready to shake. Louis let’s go of the little blue fellow on his screen and shakes his hand in return. 

“Louis.” 

“Lovely to meet you Louis,” Niall chatters on and Louis smiles to himself, feeling his shoulders loosen as Niall natters on about how the Beatles are something everyone just instinctively knows. Louis isn’t sure if he’s telling Louis all this or trying to educate the girl with the Sharpie across the carriage but he seems fine enough to jabber away even though neither of them are responding to him.

“Have I met you before?” Niall asks suddenly and Louis frowns, glancing back up from his phone because this time his words are definitely aimed at him. 

“No..” he answers slowly because he isn’t sure if he has or not. He looks vaguely familiar now that he looks at him properly but that might be just from seeing him on the train sometimes. Niall shrugs, eyes narrowing and head cocking to the side. “Look - “

“You just remind me from somewhere,” he hastily replies. “I‘m not trying to start anything.” Louis nods and turns back to his phone. He can feel him watching over his shoulder and Louis sighs, looking pointedly up at him again. A few lines from a Beatles song is all well and good but Louis isn’t down for making lifelong friends with someone he met on public transport. 

“Sorry,” he apologises at Louis’ glare but Louis thinks he doesn’t look very sorry. “I’m just in a really good mood, that’s all.” 

“Clearly,” Louis snarks because that’s the last he needs. He had forgotten then, for a whole three minutes, why he was on the train home when it was hardly lunch time. “Brilliant for you, then.” 

“Are you not having a good day?” Niall asks him curiously and he’s being so sincere that Louis’ shoulders finally slump. 

“Got fired actually,” he replies because he figures this can be his practise run for telling Liam. The pigs have won again and he thumbs over the replay button with a long sigh. “So no, not the best morning in my existence.” 

“Ah shit mate,” Niall sighs sympathetically. The train’s slowing down and he glances up at the sign above Louis’ head. “This is my stop,” he announces brightly and Louis shakes his head, pocketing his phone and following Niall’s suit and standing too. 

“Mine too,” Louis tells him when Niall’s eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“Thought you were stalking me,” Niall replies sweetly, grinning again and pulling a cap over his head. It makes him look stupid, Louis thinks darkly, and about five years younger but still his grin is strong and he's overwhelmingly cute. “Disappointed now, so I am.” 

Louis snorts, shouldering his bag and following him off the train. They’re getting to the top of the steps and the gates of the station. He’s going left and he knows with the way that Niall’s leaning he’s going to the right.

“So,” Niall smiles once they’ve swiped through the gate. It’s not that busy, everyone rushing into the city and not out of it. “If you want we could go - “

Louis cuts him off with a wince and a flash of Liam’s face in the back of his eyelids. 

“Sorry mate,” he smiles at him and watches as Niall goes suddenly shy under his gaze. “I live with someone.” 

“Oh yeah?” Niall asks, a hint of hopefulness still in his expression even though he‘s ducked his head down the ground and it‘s hard to see with the bill of the snapback. 

“Yeah,” Louis smiles softly. “With, um, my boyfriend.” 

Niall nods, smile turning wistful when he glances up before he shrugs. “No worries man. And hey, you know what the Monty Python boys always say?” 

Louis frowns at him and wracks his brain. “Always look at the bright side of life?” 

He’s singing it in his mind and now it’s going to be stuck in there all day. Niall grins at him. 

“No,” he laughs tilting his head back so the sun catches his face. “Don’t expect the Spanish Inquisition!” 

Louis snorts and shakes his head, catching one last grin off of Niall before he’s turning and heading off down the road. Louis doesn’t read into the fact that he watches him until he turns a corner and he can’t see him anymore. 

*

The first thing he notices is the bottles of Peroni in the living room. When did Liam start drinking Peroni? And when did he start drinking it hardly after noon?

It’s not even the second thing he notices - that’s the music floating from the iPod dock in the kitchen, some smooth R&B track that Louis knows isn’t on their combined iTunes. 

“Well,” Louis says for a lack of a better word by the time he makes it to the bedroom. It’s a mess, clothes everywhere, the duvet hanging half off the end of the bed. Liam’s on his back, one hand curled around the headboard and the other fisted in the hair of whichever gentleman is enthusiastically dicking into him. 

“Fuck,” Liam cries when he catches Louis’ eye and the guy on top just moans in response, picking up speed and curling his fist around Liam’s dick, hard and red against his belly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Yes,” the guy moans, hips stuttering to a stop as he pants out loudly. “Yeah, Liam.” Liam screws his eyes shut, turning his head away from a set of searching lips but it’s no use because he comes all over himself a moment later anyway with a choked off groan of distress. 

“Impressive,” Louis critiques and the man slumped across Liam’s chest starts, jerking violently up. 

“Shit!” he exclaims, rolling over and covering his bits with his hands. He stares up at the ceiling and looks vaguely guilty for a moment, splayed out on the bed as Liam curls in on himself, pinking up with embarrassment or shame, Louis’ not really sure. 

“Who is he?” Louis asks him, acutely aware that the guy isn’t making any attempt at getting dressed. The anger that had dissipated on the train is back with full force, roaring in his ears as he watches Liam wilt into the headboard like he would appreciate it if it just swallowed him up. “Liam,” he tries for angry but he just sounds more hurt than anything. “Who the fuck is he?” 

Liam opens his mouth, mouthing at him silently for a moment as the other guy finally makes a move for the pair of jeans that’s hanging over the end of the bed. Louis slams a hand down on the wood, catching the denim with his fist. 

“Lou.” Liam tries from the top of the bed but Louis can hardly see straight, curing his fingers into the rough fabric and keeping them there. He tries not to look at him but from the corner of his eye he catches lean muscle and a spattering of tattoos over his chest, he turns to glare at Liam instead.

“Well?” 

“I’m Zayn,” he mutters, glancing up with the look of someone who really isn’t overly bothered he just got caught fucking someone else’s boyfriend. The name takes a moment to sink into Louis’ head but once it’s in there it’s all he can hear. 

“Zayn,” he echoes faintly and sees Liam wince from his place still in the pillows. Zayn tugs at the jeans again but Louis’ hands are so clenched he doesn’t think he could drop them. “Zayn, the boy who broke your heart all those years ago?” 

_“Louis,”_ Liam implores again, eyes flicking over his shoulder briefly before going back to Louis'. He’s finally found the energy to move - Liam’s always sluggish after he’s come but that just makes Louis more angry. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t care if you’re sorry!” Louis snarls, dropping the jeans in favour of throwing himself at Liam who’s sort of slithered down from the headboard to grab a pair of boxers on the rug. 

He yelps when Louis’ fist finds his shoulder, thumping at him before he finds his cheek with his other hand in a stinging slap. Liam shoulders away from him and Zayn hovers by the door, pausing for a moment before he’s reaching forward to stop Louis. 

“Get the fuck away from me,” Louis sneers when he sees a hand looming in the corner of his eye. Liam’s shrunken down onto the mattress, chest heaving but his hands are clenching in the pillow behind his head - like he’d quite like to defend himself but he’s letting Louis hit him. Louis knows that Liam could easily roll them over and pin him down - he quite enjoys it when he does actually - but he keeps his hands away, knuckles white around Louis’ favourite pillow. 

The thought that Liam’s just taking it makes Louis wilt, hands falling down to rest against his own thighs. Liam’s looking up at him with wide eyes, shiny and sad which somehow just makes Louis feel worse. 

“In our own bed Liam?” Louis asks quietly because his head is a jumble and that‘s what seems most important now. That they were naked and intimate and happy in the place where Louis used to be happy with Liam too. 

“Lou,” Liam sighs, eyes screwing shut before he scrubs his hand over them and sits up. Louis slips off his place in Liam’s lap and sits on the edge of the bed feeling a bit dejected.

“I’ll just - “ Zayn murmurs from the doorway and Louis glares at him. 

“What the _fuck_ are you still doing here?” Louis snaps because it’s easy to take out his frustration on Zayn, the dickhead who’s been fucking his boyfriend. 

He doesn’t stay much longer, pulling on his jumper and slipping out of the bedroom. The song from the speakers in the living room abruptly stops as he takes his iPod and it’s deathly silent once the front door slams shut. 

“Well, isn’t this a brilliant turn of events,” Louis croaks. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes but he blinks them away because he sure as fuck isn’t going to cry in front of Liam now. “As if getting sacked wasn’t enough.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs it off, feeling another burst of angry energy at his touch. 

“You got fired?” Liam asks, finally looking stricken. 

“How long?” Louis asks instead, deflecting his question and jumping to his feet. Adrenaline is thrumming through his veins now and he can’t just sit around on the bare mattress and let Liam feel sorry for him. Liam scrambles to pull the sheets over his shoulders to follow him out into the living room. 

“Look, Louis,” Liam tries to reason with him and it just makes Louis more angry. It’s suddenly vital that he knows how long it had went on for behind his back. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the counter and Louis snorts. 

“Is this what you get up to while I’m away at work, slaving away for those dickheads so you can swan about drinking at noon and fucking your ex-boyfriend after breakfast?” Louis snaps and pours an inch into the mug he drank his morning tea in earlier. Half of his cereal from this morning is still in the sink, gone mushy in the dregs of milk and it doesn’t seem like it was only a few hours ago he was rushing out of their home to go to work like every other day. If he had known what the morning would bring, he would‘ve stayed in bed. “How long Liam? Do you love him? Do you?” 

Liam mouths at him again, jaw hanging open like he can’t quite believe they’re having this conversation - Louis can’t really believe it either, it feels like a dream but the sting of the whiskey in the back of his throat reassures him that, yeah, it‘s real. 

“Look - “ Liam starts and Louis can’t hear his voice anymore over the thunder in his ears. He suddenly doesn’t want to hear it anyway.

“You know what?” Louis starts but the whiskey is making the burning in his throat harsher and his chest feel tight. “I don’t want to know.” 

He sidesteps him, making his way through the living room again to the front door. He thinks he hears Liam calling for him again but he doesn’t wait around, he just slams the door behind him until the frame rattles and makes his way out onto the street. 

He doesn’t know where to go next. He’s used to being in the office all day or hanging around with Liam when he has a day off. The sun makes him squint and as more and more people push past him Louis feels an urgency to just _move._

The sting of whiskey is still in his mouth when he swallows, hot and intense at the back of his throat so he swallows it down and heads towards the bar. 

An hour later, Louis’ vision is going double but he orders another drink anyway. He’s moved onto rum - whiskey makes him think of Liam and vodka makes him think of work and gin makes him think of vomit - not that rum won’t make him chuck up in the morning anyway.

“Morgan’s and orange?” Louis looks up and there’s two familiar people pulling a face at him. 

“Tastes of an ice lolly,” Louis shrugs and crunches at the ice cubes in his mouth, coldness biting at his teeth. Niall settles in the bar stool beside him and the barman hands him a bottle of beer without saying anything. It takes a minute but he puts two and two together to finally grin at him. “Thought you weren’t stalking me?” 

“Couldn’t keep away,” Niall smiles but Louis just stares back at him, blinking slowly to try and get rid of the shimmer to the edge of Niall’s face and he unblurs in front of him. Niall‘s grin turns down into a bit of a frown. “Y’alright?” 

“Wonderful,” Louis smiles bitterly and drains his glass. “Truly, truly spiffing.” 

“You must be really happy then?” Niall smiles at him carefully before he rests a tentative hand on his forearm. Louis doesn’t flinch exactly but Niall lifts his palm away nearly immediately. Louis misses the weight of it for some reason. “Look,” Niall tries gently and grins at him again when he blinks up at him. “It’s only a job, you’ll get another one. You were more chipper when I left you this morning.” 

Louis’ expression wilts and he can feel the tears threatening to fall again. He reaches for his glass but it’s empty and chokes a bit under Niall‘s cautious gaze. 

“Another one, Dan,” Niall mutters and the barman gets to work. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” 

Louis sniffs and nods, poking at the ring of condensation his glass had made before there’s another sliding across the marble at him. “After I left you,” Louis clears his throat and takes the first gulp of his drink. It’s a double this time and Louis should know by the way he barely tastes it at the back of his throat that he’s really had enough. He takes another gulp anyway. “I went home and found my rather shitty boyfriend in bed with a rather lovely man.” Louis frowns and shakes his head. “Or maybe that’s the other way around. Either way, there was a lot of sex in my bed that I wasn’t involved in.”

“Oh fuck,” Niall sighs and pats at his forearm again. “Well, he’s a dickhead.” 

Louis makes noise of agreement and lets his glass settle on the counter with a loud crack. His head suddenly feels too heavy for his neck to hold up and he’d quite like to curl up into bed right now, pull the covers over his head and have a cry. But he can’t because it probably still smells of his fucking cheating boyfriend. 

“Louis,” comes another voice and Louis opens his eyes, squinting a little bit until Harry’s face comes into focus. Niall’s got three bottles of beer (or is it six) in front of him now and Louis wonders if he dozed off for a second. How he hasn’t gotten chucked out he doesn’t know.

“Harry,” Louis tries to grin at him but he can’t get his mouth to work properly. Harry frowns at him then and steps around Niall to grip at his shoulder. 

“Liam came looking for you,” he tells him carefully, handling him carefully too, like Louis will break. “What’s happened?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” Louis slurs. “Didn’t boast about how he’s been fucking Zayn under my nose for God knows how long?” 

Harry’s face falls. “No, shit, must’ve slipped his mind.” 

Louis looks at him for a moment, acutely aware of how Niall’s clearly listening in over his shoulder before he lets his face crumple. This is Harry, he’s allowed to cry in front of Harry.

“Oh Louis,” Harry sighs letting him tuck his head into the space between his neck and shoulder and when he rubs his hand down his spine it only makes Louis cry harder.

*

“Have you made it out of bed today?” Harry's question announces his arrival. The bedroom door bangs against the wall and Louis winces at the thud. Harry’s in a smart shirt, clearly just home from work with the way he’s stripping out of it like he can’t do it fast enough. 

“Yes,” Louis replies stubbornly and burrows himself further under the mountain of blankets he’s got piled around him. “I woke up in _my_ bed.” 

Harry snorts, settling at the foot of the bed to pull off his socks. “Yeah, you’ve moved yourself from the spare room a whole three feet into my room.” 

Louis sighs, lowers the volume of Jeremy Kyle on the TV and peeks over the edge of Harry’s fancy maroon throw that normally only makes an appearance on his bed if he’s on the pull. Louis decided that he deserves all the posh stuff Harry nicked from his mum‘s house before he moved down to London, he drank his orange juice out of a wine glass this morning for the fun of it. It didn‘t make him feel very better though - the wine would‘ve been better. 

“Your telly’s better,” he tells him, because it’s true and if he had to spend one more minute in the guest bedroom he was going to go mad. Harry’s bed is a nice change of scenery without actually having to get out of a bed. 

Harry shakes his head, standing up to kick out of his suit slacks and pulling on a pair of skinny jeans instead. Louis doesn’t really understand it - when he got home from work he wanted to be in the comfiest pair of trousers he owned, Harry’s thighs look like they can hardly function his jeans are that tight. 

“I’m going out, come out with me.” He’s pulling on a t-shirt that gapes down the front and Louis would rather walk over hot coal than join him. 

“I’m fine here thanks,” Louis mutters and rolls onto his back. Harry’s bed is nice and big so he can starfish out across the mattress and stretch his legs in between the times he’s curled around his too plump pillows.

“Louis,” Harry sighs and he’s got that frown on his face that makes Louis think of his mum the time she caught him with quarter bottle of Goldschlager at the bottom of his school bag. “You need to get out of bed at some point. It’s Friday, let’s go out and get trashed and celebrate a week without him.” 

Louis rolls onto his front. He can’t believe it’s been a week. And he can’t believe he’s spent it all split between his and Harry’s bed. 

“There’s a new Don’t Tell The Bride on in a minute,” Louis tells him instead, mouth muffled into a cushion. “I’ll move back into the spare room before you get back, don’t worry.” 

Harry pulls a face before he settles back onto the bed again. He’s much closer this time, close enough to press a palm against his neck and rub his thumb just behind his ear. Louis can feel the tightness behind his eyes again and he blinks a few times to ward off any tears. 

“I’ll be at the bar if you decide to come out.” He strokes down his neck and Louis feels his shoulders relax even though he still feels wound up. “Please decide to come out Lou.” 

Louis shrugs, burying his nose further into the dip between two pillows. He feels Harry’s palm squeeze at his shoulder before the weight lifts up off the side of the bed. 

It’s quiet after he leaves, which is saying something because Harry had only been there for a whole seven minutes while he got changed. He can hear him clatter about in the rest of the flat before the door slams shut and Louis knows he’s on his own. 

It’s not even dark outside and it only makes Louis feel worse. He turns up the volume on the TV again, the BBC3 indent loud and grating and getting every bit on his nerves as it shouldn’t be. 

The fiancé on the show is a dickhead, planning out the wedding to what he wants and Louis knows that the bride is going to cry when she walks down the aisle in her hideous dress. He’s just spent half of his budget on his stag to Magaluf when Louis’ phone rings, quiet under the mountain of blankets he’s got round himself. 

“Harry,” Louis sighs when he picks up without much thought. “I’m not coming out with you.” 

No one replies on the other end, just a sharp breath instead but Louis knows instantly who it belongs to.

Louis’ chest tightens and he feels frozen in bed, the covers around him stifling suddenly. 

“I -” 

“Liam,” Louis mutters but doesn’t go to turn off the phone. He can’t no matter how hard he tries because he hasn’t heard his voice in over a week and it’s longer than he’s gone without it since they first met. 

“I didn’t actually think you’d answer.” Liam sounds breathless and tight and lovely and loose all at the same time. It's a mind fuck.

“Well,” Louis mutters because the warm stiffness he felt at the first sound of him is melting into something hot and closer to fury. “Here I am.” 

“You sound -” Liam cuts off, a hitching breath and Louis wonders if he’s crying. He doesn’t sound it, not really and it's hard to work out if he's relieved or disappointed.

“I’ve got to go,” Louis babbles, catching a second wind. “I’ve - I’m - Harry needs me to meet him and I just,” he’s talking too fast and he pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing quietly. “I just have to go.” He kicks at the sheets and scrambles out of the bed. The duvet is tangled around his waist and he trips a bit over the mess Harry’s made by the wardrobe but he make it out into the hallway relatively unscathed. 

“No, wait.” Liam’s voice is tinny now that Louis’ got the phone away from his ear but he can still hear him. “Louis, I just want to - you know I’m really - “

Louis hit’s the red button before he can hear him apologise. 

He feels oddly energised now that he’s out of bed, like all the blood is finally making its way round his body now that he’s vertical. Liam’s voice is still rattling around his head and he doesn’t like it. The pull in his gut to just automatically give into him, to forget all about it because when he was with Liam he didn’t feel this _shit_. He didn’t lie in bed all day and mope, he ate like a proper person - not existing for the past seven days on Dairylea triangles and bowls of Crunchy Nut and he certainly didn’t cry like a baby every time he thought of Liam, stretched out across their mattress, sweaty, panting and fucking Zayn Malik sucking his balls.

“Fuck,” Louis cries out in frustration. That’s why he doesn’t want to go back to Liam he reminds himself, he‘s a shit person who was cheating on him.

He goes on autopilot, pulling on one of Harry’s swoopy t-shirts and a denim jacket that smells a bit like the kebab he ate the last time he made it out of the house. He doesn’t bother showering, even though he really should so he just pushes his hair into a bit of a quiff that doesn’t need much gel and leaves the mirror before he takes too much notice of how he actually looks, quiff wilting and the stain on the cuff of his sleeve. 

It doesn’t take him too far to get to the bar, Harry’s new hangout is just five minutes away from the old one - the one they can’t go to anymore because Harry fucked the girl behind the bar and didn’t phone her back. It’s crowded and Louis spares a moment when he gets to the door, hand curled around the handle to think about how they usually went here most nights, Liam included. The door opens while he has his internalised freak out and Louis apologises, plasters a smile on his face and slips into the wall of noise inside. This is what he needs, noise and people and beer, anything to get rid of the echo of Liam's voice in his head. It’s packed, the Friday night rush hour between the end of work and when everyone moves on to a shinier pub, drunk enough to handle the sticky floors of a niteclub. The lights are dipped and Louis scans the queue for the bar, three people deep for any sign of Harry and just in case, Liam. 

Louis skips going to the bar and pushes through a group of people to get to the other side of the room. Harry likes to sit at one of the tables near the back, close enough to the jukebox to make sure they can pick the music all night but far enough from the toilets so they don’t catch the smell of piss and vomit. 

“You back to stalking me now?” Comes a voice beside him, just loud enough over the hum of the bar. 

Louis glances around, shocked that he’s being spoken to and comes to a stop when he spies blond hair, turning purple under the dim bar lights. 

“Hey,” Louis says slowly and Niall cracks a smile. 

“Niall,” he introduces himself again. “I don’t know if you remember -” he looks nervous suddenly and Louis feels like a dick because he had been very drunk when he had last seen him. He doesn’t remember what they spoke about, if they even did at all, just a vague memory of sweet rum and trying valiantly not to cry.

“No, sure I do.” Louis lies, turning himself so he can see him properly. Someone pushes past them to get to the bar but neither of them move. Niall’s face cracks into another smile and it‘s so much more dazzling this close. “You got to witness my meltdown the other night.” 

Niall laughs but when he catches his eye his expression is soft. “Yeah, don’t worry though, it‘s our little secret.” 

Louis raises his eyebrow and Niall smirks. Every time Louis sees him he’s smiling. 

“I won’t tell anyone you puked on the pavement.” 

Louis flushes and feels warm in his jacket. Niall’s laughing again, head thrown back so Louis can see the column of his throat. He’d quite like to bury his face there, maybe nibble a little on his skin. He could bet that it would turn the prettiest shade of pink. 

“Not drinking tonight?” Niall asks him, eyes slipping over his shoulder at the bar and Louis feels that awkward moment before Niall goes to ask him to buy him a drink. 

“Designated driver,” Louis lies and instantly regrets it. He had walked to the bar and planned on drowning himself in vodka the moment he got in the place. Niall’s face falls just slightly but you wouldn’t be able to tell because his smile is still there. He isn’t sure why he said no, he likes Niall but he can’t help but feel the looming _toosoontoosoontoosoon_ in the back of his head. 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Niall smiles at him. “You’re a bit of a lightweight from what I’ve seen anyway.” 

“Am not!” Louis defends himself, laughing anyway. “You’ll have to see me another night and see for yourself.” 

Niall pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth as he looks him over. Louis flushes again. He can’t believe he said it, he’s _flirting_. He feels so guilty and even worse, out of practise. 

The silence between them is stretching on too long and Louis opens his mouth when Harry yells from somewhere and suddenly there’s an arm wrapped around his neck. “Lou-lou!” he grins at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek and Louis wonders how much he’s had - he must only have been at the bar for about an hour before Louis had arrived.

“You made it out of bed today,” Harry blabbers and nuzzles at his neck for a moment. “Well done.” Niall grins at him and glances over his shoulder at a group of people Louis hadn’t noticed before, clearly his friends who are trying, unsuccessfully, to appear like they aren’t eavesdropping. Louis feels hot around the collar again.

“So can I then?” Niall asks when Harry’s quietened down and found something more interesting to do on his phone. 

“Can you what?” Louis asks because he’s been knocked off his train of thought now that Harry’s turned up. 

Niall bites at his bottom lip and Louis feels a warm thrum through his body. “Ask you out for a drink?” he’s almost shy when he asks but Louis finds himself nodding anyway. 

“Yeah,” he’s a bit breathless. “That’d be nice.” 

Harry beams from beside him, he’s been paying attention after all. Louis’ cheeks feel like they’re on fire but Niall just smiles at him and reaches for his phone. 

Niall’s friends cat call and Harry snuffles another giggle into Louis’ neck as Louis taps in his number, fingers shaking and Niall’s backing away from him, like he’s afraid to turn away from him to get back to his table. 

“See you later then?” It’s more of a question than Louis would like but he’s nodding his head.

“Louis, Louis,” Harry calls at him from his spot on his shoulder when Niall's slipped into his booth and just a spark on his periphery. “Come on, let’s get drinks.”

“Ok,” Louis pats at his head and pushes them through two people to get a spot at the bar. It’s busy and he nearly doesn’t notice him standing there because Harry’s mouthing at his neck now and giggling at the girl beside them. 

“Louis,” Liam’s suddenly beside him and Louis’ back goes rigid. He can feel icy dread settle in his stomach and curses himself from leaving the house at all. It was too risky that Liam would make it out too.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks him, wariness growing. Liam looks a mess, collar popped and hair slightly messy. They probably look a right pair and it makes him feel slightly better. 

“You said you were going out,” Liam tells him, eyes wild. “I just want -”

“There’s a reason I hung up on you,” Louis snaps. “I don’t want to hear it. If I‘m not going to talk to you on the phone what makes you think I want to see your stupid face in person?”

Liam winces and Louis feels bad for a few seconds but the rage he feels when Liam’s in front of him only bubbles in his stomach as Liam mouths silently in search of words. 

“Please Louis,” he begs and Louis’s stomach turns. Harry’s still at his shoulder but he’s frowning at Liam and his hand is stroking at Louis’ hip in a mark of comfort. They’re being jostled by the crowd as people move away from the bar, drinks held high above their heads and other people rush to take their space. 

“I can’t,” Louis is nearly at a loss for what to say. It’s too soon to see him and he definitely doesn’t want to have this conversation here, with Harry latched onto him in the middle of the bar and still feeling warm from his chance meeting with Niall. He can tell that this is going to be so much harder than he had first imagined, he and Liam did everything together - so his favourite places are going to be Liam’s too. “I can’t do this Liam.” 

“Please,” he steps forward, or is moved by the crowd but either way he manages to wrap a hand around Louis’ bicep. Harry stands up properly, as if the physical touch is a step too far, and it very nearly is. Louis can feel his palm burn through his jacket and shirt, searing into his skin and it’s making him feel nervous, jittery like his skin is too tight to contain his body right at this moment. “Louis, just.”

“Are you still seeing him?” Louis asks suddenly, keeping his eyes downcast so he doesn’t have to see Liam lie. The hesitation is enough and Louis knows, that even when Liam tightens his grip on his arm he knows. 

“Lou,” Liam says so quiet it’s just a mouth of words over the din of the bar. Louis stares at him, frustrated tears pricking in his eyes and that only makes him more angry at himself. He shouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed at all today. 

“Liam, I love you,” Harry blabs and Louis looks down at the floor again. “But you are such a dick sometimes.” 

“Harry,” Liam tries to defend himself but Louis’ already shaking out of Harry’s grip and backing through the crowd. “Louis!” 

He ignores him and once he’s through a few people he stops to breathe. He has two options, head out the door and to the nearest off license or turn back round again and get to the bar. When he glances up he spies Niall, squeezed back into his booth and laughing at something his mate says, so fresh and new and untainted by Louis’ recent fucked up relationship.

His feet are walking there before he even realises it, heart thumping high in his throat as he comes to a stop at their table. 

“Louis!” Niall grins up at him again. 

Louis pulls a smile onto his face, failing to match how happy Niall looks. “How about Saturday?” 

*

It’s a disaster. 

He doesn’t mean for it to turn into a bit of a therapy session but Niall’s face is so open and smiley and Louis just can’t help but want to tell him all his deepest, darkest secrets. 

“Well he clearly doesn’t care about you,” Niall mutters, fingers wrapped around the lip of his beer bottle before he takes a seat. 

Louis had gotten spectacularly drunk after he had asked Niall out on a date, vomited again on his shoes and had Harry put him to bed so when he got the text from Niall he had stared at it, vision going funny due to his hangover, for a full three minutes before he freaked the fuck out. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Harry had reassured him, edging him towards the shower because he’s sure there’s vomit spattered up his ankles. “It’s just a drink. Calm down.” 

But Louis can’t calm down. And it’s probably the worst date in is life. 

Niall shows up looking perfect, hair coiffed up and bright in the evening sun and slides into the seat in front of him with a grin. Louis shakes his hand with a shaky hand and he cringes to himself, Niall’s smile faltering a bit at the formality of it. It starts off fine after that, Louis’ stomach is feeling a bit dodgy so he nervously orders a beer and sips at it while Niall asks him a few questions. It’s like he’s topping up from the night before though so he goes from feeling like shit to a bit spaced to weepy drunk in the space of a beer and a half. 

“It’s just all turned to shit,” Louis tells him and swallows roughly. He wants to stop talking but there seems to be something broken between his brain and his mouth because he keeps going. Plus there‘s something about telling this all to Niall who‘s never met Liam and doesn‘t already have an attachment to him like Harry does. “I haven’t felt like this in forever and I - I don’t like it.” 

Niall nods, eyes skimming over his face as he takes another gulp of his beer. He turns around to motion to the barman and Louis drains his drink to keep up - not that he has too, he’s already leaning spectacularly skew whiff off the barstool anyway. 

“I just don’t know why he did this,” Louis complains. “What did I do to deserve that? I thought he was the one y’know?”

There’s a tightness in his throat and when he swallows it doesn’t go away. Niall’s looking at with something akin to pity and it just makes Louis feel so much worse. 

“I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Louis shakes his head and reaches for his drink again. “I shouldn’t -”

The first tear slides off his chin and it’s only then that he notices he’s actually crying. 

Fuck, if that’s not the most pathetic Louis’ felt in a while, sitting crying in a busy pub on a Saturday night. 

“Hey,” Niall murmurs and shuffles closer until he’s on his feet, stepping between Louis and the nosy barman. Louis shudders against him and wonders why Niall is being so lovely to him, he hardly knows him and if this was reversed, Louis would‘ve been the first out the door. “Hey, it’s ok.” Niall’s voice is ridiculously soothing. 

There’s an undercurrent of concern that just makes Louis sob softly when he pulls an arm around his shoulder and lets him bury his face into his neck. He’s humming quietly and rubbing a hand down his back and Louis wants to shut his eyes and sleep like this, tucked up around a warm body with fingers running through his hair and breath matching to another’s.

“I’m sorry,” Louis pulls himself away and sniffs, shaking his head to get rid of the comforting image in his head. Niall’s collar is a bit wet and Louis’ cheeks heat up at the concerned look he’s giving him. He is in no way being sexy and it sort of makes him want to cry all over again. He’s never going to be able to do this.

“Do you want to get a taxi home?” Niall asks gently. “I’m not making you leave or anything but when I feel like shit, I don’t like to air it out in public.” 

Louis hiccups and glances around. The barman is staring at them over the glass he’s cleaning and a few of the other people dotted around the bar are looking over. Louis nods and gets to his feet, stumbling off the chair until Niall steadies him with a hand on his elbow. 

“I got you,” he murmurs and he does, his side something solid to sink into with an arm over his shoulder to keep him straight. He thinks of the last time Liam would do something like this and has to screw his face up to stop crying again. 

It’s cold outside, not quite dark yet but the sun has gone away leaving a dull half-grey sky. Niall helps him into his jacket, pulling both sides together to keep Louis warm and for a moment he feels like a child, all tucked up with the way Niall’s dressing him. 

“Here,” he smiles at him and loops his scarf around Louis’ neck. It’s warm and soft and smells of Niall when Louis pushes his nose into the wool. Louis watches him quietly, standing on the curb while Niall hails down a cab and talks to the driver, one hand on the door and the other gesturing out for Louis to come closer. He takes a step and Niall turns to him, grin sliding easily onto his face. 

“I hope you feel better Louis,” he murmurs quietly stepping in close again. There’s something odd and fluttery in Louis’ belly but mostly he just feels like crap, chest tight and stomach woozy from the three and a half beers he managed to swallow down without vomiting. “Give me a ring yeah?” 

Louis nods, not trusting himself to speak and he barely pulls his mouth out of the scarf as Niall ducks in quickly to brush his lips over the pink of his cheek. It’s quick and sweet and just enough of a surprise to make Louis stagger a step closer to the taxi. 

“Thanks for the drink,” Niall beams at him as Louis slides into the back of the cab. He feels a bit stunned, not by the kiss itself but more by how _nice_ it felt. “See ya around!” 

And then the door’s shut and Niall is nothing but a figure in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

The doors slide shut just as he gets to them and Louis can’t really help the shout he gives out. It echoes out through the curve of the tunnel and it reminds Louis of how empty it is. 

“FUCKER!” 

He probably could have contained that into himself but he bangs on the train anyway, already picking up speed and swiftly leaving the platform. His fist stings a bit but Louis’ already feeling so angry that it just adds to it. He growls to himself, louder than he really means and spins on his heel to thump his fist against the pillar there. There’s ad for the crazy magician who sometimes does a night at the bar they normally go to and Louis stares at him for a moment, oddly fascinated by his maroon hat that’s sitting crooked on his head before there’s a shout behind him. 

“Hey!” 

Louis looks up, over his shoulder and winces. One of the conductors is walking across the platform, hand already raised to point at him. He’s old, hair greying and turning white but Louis has seen him shout at people before and knows he’s in for a right bollocking if he pisses him off anymore. 

“Out you go!” he shouts even though he’s only a few feet away now. Louis wilts, shoulders slumping. 

“The next train is in five minutes, I’ll be good until then.” He’s nearly begging and he feels a wave of embarrassment of actually promising to be _good_ on the platform for him but he’s already shaking his head. 

“And you’ll not be on it.” His face is set into a scowl and his fingers turns away from pointing at Louis towards the stairs. “Out you get, come on, go bother someone else.” 

“I didn’t even -” Louis can feel his hackles rise, all he did was hit the door of the tube, hardly the worst they’ve seen really, his fist probably came off worse from it. 

“I don’t like anti-social behaviour on my platform.” 

Louis stares at him, part of him is itching to argue back but the rest of him just can’t be _bothered_.

“Alright.” Louis sags and picks up the strap of his bag again before heading back up the steps to the street. He thinks about finding the bus but it’s a few streets away and he’ll have to change at Vauxhall anyway so he just sticks his hand out to wave down a taxi, swallowing the bitterness of having to fork out twenty quid for the pleasure. 

It’s brightened up outside even though he was only away for ten minutes and it’s getting a bit busy as the morning wears on. He pushes through the stream of people walking down the street and has his hand raised to hail a cab when there’s a tug on his shoulder.

“What?” It feels like slow motion, the slight turn of Louis’ right shoulder and the too close to focus blur of a man and his wool black hat and then he’s staggering off the pavement, lurching with the step and the horn of a passing car and a shout of the woman on the street beside him and suddenly he’s sitting half sprawled on the road with a sharp pain down one arm and missing his laptop bag off the other. 

“You alright mate?” There’s someone reaching down to help him up and Louis is still all in a daze that he lifts his arm automatically, groaning quietly when the pain gets worse. 

“Think you’ll need causality mate,” the cabbie frowns at him and helps him up with his other hand. “C’mon.” 

“Thanks,” Louis murmurs. His throat’s gone and packed it in, torn between giving into tears or freezing up completely. He wants to phone Liam and have him come and get him but when he reaches his hand into his pocket he remembers it was in his bag. The only thing he has is the key to the flat and a handful of change from coffee this morning. “Look,” he shakes his head, trying to clear it enough to step up into the back of the taxi. “I haven’t got any -”

“It’s alright,” the man shakes his head. “I seen it all happen, let’s get sorted out.” 

Louis nods, still in a daze and sinks into the chair, letting the cabbie take him wherever he wants to. 

It takes him three hours and forty minutes to get seen to in the hospital, which he supposes is good even for a Tuesday morning. The cabbie hangs about, nervous and guilty because apparently Louis fell into the bonnet of his car, crushed his wrist and is now sporting a rather blue and garish plaster of paris on his forearm so he insists that he drives him home. Louis wonders for a split second if he’s in the beginning of a slasher movie since he's being so nice but the painkillers he’s on, mixed with the need to get home makes him more mellow, accepting the trip and slipping the key into his front door just twenty minutes later.

“Did you just get out of bed?” Louis calls into the bathroom. The shower’s running and Liam nearly always showers once he’s up. It’s just after lunchtime though and even though he’s got nothing really to do, he gets up around the same time Louis leaves for work. If it was him, Louis wouldn’t be getting out of bed until mid afternoon either. 

The bedroom is a mess, duvet crumpled and pillows scattered about the floor. He settles down on the edge of the mattress and picks up a bottle of beer sitting there. He has no idea where it came from but he takes a pull anyway. It’s just the dregs at the bottom but feels good sliding down his throat. 

“We should go and get drunk,” Louis tells Liam once he emerges from the shower. He looks like he’s been scrubbed clean, chest pink where he’s washed and Louis can‘t believe how happy he is to see him. Liam takes one look at him before he’s on his knees in front of him. 

“What happened?” he asks, hand hovering at the his side and Louis shrugs, holding his hand out for inspection. 

"Hello," Louis smiles dopily at him and rubs his thumb over Liam's damp eyebrow. “Would you like the bad news or the bad news?” 

Louis sets the bottle down and Liam follows his movements, eyes widening as he does so before he jumps up. 

“Where are you off to?” Louis complains whenever he disappears from right in front of him. He was at optimal blow job height before he jumped up. 

“Let me put on some clothes,” Liam tells him sharply. Louis frowns and looks over his shoulder, Liam’s messing about the lid of the laundry basket but straightens up under his gaze, pulling the towel tighter and giving him a tight smile. “And you can tell me all about it.” 

“But I like you all damp and naked, get back here.” Louis pouts for extra effect and he can pinpoint the moment Liam’s resolve breaks. His shoulders slump just a little bit, relaxing as his hand goes to the towel at his hip again. 

“Ok, ok.” He grins, crawling over the back of the bed so he can lie across the sheets until his face is level with Louis’ thigh.

“Preferred you between my knees,” Louis chastises him but bends down to meet his lips in a kiss. “But I can work with this.” 

Liam laughs against his lips, a hand working it’s way across Louis’ hips to get at his fly. “Yeah I know you can work with anything. What happened today?” 

Louis sighs against his chin, hand stalling on it’s way up to grab a handful of Liam’s hair. 

“Got fired,” he mumbles, pushing his lips out to catch another kiss off Liam. Maybe Liam will take it better if there's kissing involved. “And then broke my hand.” 

Liam blinks at him, stunned for a moment before his face falls. 

“Aw, babe, I’m sorry.” 

Louis pulls a brave smile out of his arse. “It’s fine, I didn’t like working there anyway. Quite liked my hand though.” 

He waves about the cast for him to see until Liam smiles again. Louis likes this Liam smile, soft in a way that will lessen the blow when he tells him he‘s been an idiot. He decides to speak before Liam can ask how he got hurt and embarrass him again. “Will you be the first to sign it?” 

Liam laughs again, rolling in to muffle it against Louis’ hip. 

“Of course I will,” he grins at him, kissing the patch of skin where his shirt has ridden up. “After though.” He noses across his hip, mouthing along his waistband until Louis falls backwards onto the mattress.

“Yeah,” Louis sighs and blinks up at the ceiling for a moment. He can feel Liam’s palm skate across his belly, slithering down to dip into his boxers. “After,” he mumbles faintly when Liam gets a grip around his dick. He groans and throws his head back against the duvet, it’s rumpled up under his neck and he can’t help sinking into it. 

Liam laughs against his lap, pushing at the waistband of Louis’ boxers until he can mouth at the tip of his dick, licking sloppily down the side and getting him all wet. Louis sighs, rolling his head around until he can kiss at his knee - the closest part to him before throwing out his arm clumsily. 

“This isn’t going to work,” he groans as Liam closes his lips around him fully. Liam makes an aborted noise, snuffling through his nose before pulling off. 

“What’s not going to work?” he asks. He’s already a little pink in the face, lips plumping up nicely and covered in spit. Louis wants him to crawl back up to him just so they can kiss. 

“My hand,” he pouts, waving about his cast and wincing when it sends a dull shock of pain up his arm. Liam snorts and goes back to licking around the head of Louis’s dick. Louis lets him for a moment before knocking his cast clumsily against Liam’s thigh to catch his attention again. 

“What?” he asks moving across to suck a mark on the delicate skin just below Louis’ hip. 

Louis sighs at the feel of it, mind going blank for a blissful moment before he pats against Liam‘s thigh again. “Up and over, come on. I want to suck you too.” 

Liam grins at him and wriggles out of the towel. He’s already half hard from just having Louis’ dick in his mouth and it makes Louis smile as Liam carefully swings his leg over Louis’ head so he can settle above him. It’s a bit awkward like this at first and Louis always wants to laugh as Liam nuzzles against his lap letting his dick sort of dangle above him. 

He reaches up to palm at Liam’s hip, moving around slowly to curl his fingers around Liam’s dick. Liam’s spine straightens at the touch before he bends again, going pliant as he licks quickly down the crease of Louis’ groin. 

The angle’s wrong, Louis can only mouth at his balls and lick around the base, twisting his hand around the top until Liam’s hard and smearing precome all over Louis’ palm. 

“C’mon,” he mutters around a mouthful of Liam’s dick, brushing his free hand up over Liam’s thigh until he can dig his blunt nails into the flesh of his bum. Liam hisses at the feeling of the rough cast, harsh over his skin. “Roll over.”

He does, falling over onto his side and with the arm wrapped around Louis’ thigh, he pulls him over too. Louis settles onto his side as best he can. Liam’s still plastered to his front, pushing at his hip to steady him so he can swallow him down. Louis can’t help the groan when he does, cheeks hollowing and he has to take a few deep breaths and look at the headboard to stop him from losing it too quickly. 

“Lou,” Liam urges, pulling away to mouth dirtily down the length of his dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Louis mutters, lips brushing over the tip of Liam’s dick smearing wetness there. He darts his tongue out to lick at his bottom lip and shivers at the taste. 

Liam’s a good length, hot and hard in his mouth, stretching his jaw and heavy on his tongue. He can suck on the head, tongue flat against the stretched skin as he breathes through his nose and takes him deeper. Liam sounds distant over the roaring in his ears and the suction around his own dick is so good he can’t help rock his hips a bit, testing him to see if he can buck into him properly. 

Liam makes a noise, thumb pinching at Louis’ thigh for a moment as he takes a breath and he moves his hand around to squeeze at his arse, encouraging him to fuck into his mouth. 

“Christ, Liam,” Louis pants, rolling his hips and pushing into the heat of Liam’s mouth. Liam makes a noise in response but Louis can’t hear it properly to make out if it was supposed to be a word. He flutters his tongue sloppily over the top of Liam’s dick, rolling his fingers down the side as Liam’s thighs tense just above his head. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, pulling off Louis’s dick just before he comes. Louis swallows him down easily and all Liam has to do is pant breathily into the space just below his balls and slowly twist his fist before he’s coming too, spattering over his belly and Liam’s knuckles. 

It takes him a moment, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath before he scrambles onto his other side. He wriggles about until he’s squashed up against Liam’s broad side and he can press his palm flat against his hot chest. 

“Love you.” He’s already feeling the tendrils of sleep, the pain medication making his mind go foggy quickly. It takes a few moments before he finally hears Liam whisper it back but by then he's already half way dreaming. 

*

“Two sambuca,” Liam orders. “And two Corona.” 

Louis winces a bit, going out and getting pissed is probably the worst idea, especially when he’s still feeling a little bit light headed from the pain killers the hospital gave him but then the bartender’s pushing over their drinks and he doesn’t care anymore once he gets a hand on cool glass. 

“Are you going to clean up my vomit?” Louis asks him with a grin as they clink the cheap shot glasses together and take a deep breath each. Liam grins at him, sinking the shot impressively for someone who doesn’t like to drink all that often and Louis follows suit. 

“Of course not,” Liam laughs once they’ve slammed the glasses down and taken a slug of the beer.

It seems that long since Louis' been out with Liam and it's nice to have him beside him, grin loosening up with every drink he takes, eyes crinkling when they giggle over something silly later. Liam pushes his wedge of lime into his bottle and laughs as it starts to bubble up, clamping his mouth over the lip of the bottle. Louis watches him, lips slick and stretched around the bottle. 

“Will you at least suck me off in the bathroom then?” Louis asks, the shot going straight to his head and making him loose lipped. Liam chokes and pulls off the bottle with a laugh. “Please?” 

“It wasn’t enough this afternoon?” he asks but he’s shuffled forward a step and Louis only has to turn his hip until they’re standing flush together. He grins at him, stealing a kiss against his mouth to taste the lime there. 

“Nope,” Louis laughs but turns towards the bar again. “But first, more alcohol!” 

Liam giggles kissing against his cheek again before he’s straightening up and holding a hand up for the bartender again. 

“I shouldn’t have fucking replaced the vodka,” Louis babbles two hours later and rolls his neck. Liam’s shoulder is nice, the jumper soft against his cheek and warm but that might be all the whiskey he’s been drinking. 

“Yeah that was an oversight,” Liam smiles down at him, eyebrows crinkling. He clinks his glass against Louis’ on the bar and drains his glass. Louis smiles at him, blinking slowly before he sits up. It takes him two attempts to grasp his own glass, sipping at it slowly and hardly wincing at the hot roll of Jameson down his throat. 

Beside him Liam reaches for his phone and Louis frowns. “Pay attention to me,” he moans and lets his head drop back onto Liam’s shoulder. The bar’s emptying out around them but Louis doesn’t want to leave, Liam’s too warm beside him and the glass in his hand is too empty. He sits up again, holding a hand out to grab the bartender as Liam flicks through his phone. “Who are you texting?” he complains as two more glasses of whiskey land in front of him. 

Liam’s grinning down at his phone and snaps his head up to meet Louis’ enquiring gaze - even if it is a little bit tilted. 

“No one, someone from the gym.” 

“The _gym_?” Louis snorts. “Liam, babe, you need to get a job.” 

Liam smiles fondly at him and runs his thumb over Louis’ bottom lip. “Come on you, let’s get you home and sleep off all the alcohol.” 

“Pfft,” Louis snorts but he does feel a bit woozy. Liam checks his phone again, smirking down at the screen before holding a hand out support Louis’ weight before he falls sideways off the stool. “I don’t need to sleep off anything.” 

“Mmmhmm,” Liam humours him, gently helping him into his coat so he doesn’t hurt his hand anymore. It’s sweet that, and one of the reasons Louis’ fell in love with him in the first place. 

“Do you know what I do need though?” Louis asks him as they take the steps out of the bar one at a time. 

“What’s that?” Liam asks, pocketing his phone with one hand and gripping Louis’ shoulder with the other, steering him out onto the street. Louis flicks quickly through the list of things he needs as of today - a new phone, a job, to be thoroughly fucked into a mattress, another whiskey. 

“A _kebab_ ,“ Louis moans instead. He can feel his mouth watering and it’s either from the thought of a greasy pack of chips or from the equally distressing feeling of nausea. 

“Fuck,” Liam mutters and holds Louis upright when he stumbles on a crack in the path. “You must be drunk.” 

Louis grins at him, leaning in for a quick kiss. “To the kebab house!” 

“That’s the last one I’m giving you,” Liam warns him, leaning in to peck him one last time for good measure. Louis pouts at him. 

“What?” he demands, looping an arm around him and clinging on tight as Liam tries to navigate him down the street in the crowd that’s gathered from all the other pubs emptying out. He laughs and Louis ducks his head into the crook of Liam’s neck, nibbling there just to be a pain. 

Liam indulges him, walking him down the street to the nearest chippy and ordering him food. Louis wolfs the first half of it into him, chips landing on his shirt front while Liam looks on, half grossed out by the state of him before Louis starts to feel sick again and the chips are quickly binned. 

“Love you, you know,” Louis mumbles into Liam’s neck as he manouevers him into bed. There had been a touch and go moment in the taxi where Louis thought he was going to vomit but he had swallowed it down, vision blurring and body swaying along with the curve of the road. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Liam kisses his forehead and tucks him in before he disappears out the bedroom door and Louis falls promptly asleep.

 

*

“What are you doing up so early?” Louis complains and flops over onto his side of the bed. It’s nice and warm there and smells like Liam, all musk and sweat from last nights sleep. Liam sighs from above him and when Louis peeks an eye open he can see his disapproving glance. 

“This is the fourth day Lou,” he complains, flicking through his phone before sliding it into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms. His hair is all sleep rumpled and Louis reaches out, hooking his finger into the waistband of Liam’s bottoms to tug him closer. 

“Yeah,” Louis shrugs against Liam’s pillow and tugs him again. Liam doesn’t move, just peers down at him with a frown and stays stock still, rooting his feet to the ground. 

“All this moping about isn’t good for you -” he starts to chastise and Louis actually snorts. "Are you going to eat something today that isn't made of crisps?"

“Are you really going to criticise me wallowing for a few days when you are equally unemployed?” Louis asks, dropping his arm back onto the mattress because he doesn’t really want to suck Liam’s dick if he’s going to be an even bigger one. 

Liam pulls a face and Louis can nearly predict what’s going to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m training,” Louis makes a squeaky voice and beats him to it. Liam clamps his mouth shut, lips thinning as he looks down at him. 

“I _am_.” Liam insists and takes a step back, eyes flicking down to Louis hand which he’s unconsciously curled it into a fist, like he’s about to punch out and hit him in the balls or something. Louis hasn’t ruled that possibility out quite yet so it’s probably for the best. 

“Liam,” Louis snorts. “You’re training for the marathon, not the fucking Olympics.” 

It’s a low blow, Louis knows that there was once a slim chance of him getting into professional athletics when he was younger. Liam's glare turns icy.

“Fuck off Lou,” he finally snaps and walks over to their wardrobe. Louis watches him, pulling the duvet around him more so it feels more like he’s in a cocoon and watches Liam strip off. There’s a bruise on the muscle of his back and Louis thinks back to the past few days, trying to remember when he bit there. He’s still wondering about it when Liam’s fully dressed, raggy t-shirt and a pair of sweats that he always walks to the gym in. 

“Try and get out of bed today yeah?” Liam mutters, grabbing his keys off the bed side and patting his pockets to make sure his phone’s in there.

“I’ll think about it,” Louis snipes back, rolling onto his back and dislodging his cast from under his hip. Liam pulls a face and resists rolling his eyes before slamming his way out of the flat without another word. 

It’s quiet once he leaves, the faint sound of the birds outside the window but that’s it. That and the whir of Louis’ brain that won’t shut up about the fading bruise on Liam‘s back. 

It’s going to drive him stir crazy, the boredom of unemployment already eating into him. It feels like he hasn’t been out of the house in days so he pulls out his phone from where it’s jammed under the pillow and responds to one of Harry’s five million texts since the start of the week.

“I think Liam is having an affair,” Louis confesses an hour later when Harry is a solid weight in front of him and Liam is still nowhere to be seen. 

“He’s not,” Harry snorts and pushes him out of the way. 

“He is,” Louis sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He should probably shower but Harry had brought lunch to him, respective of his wallowing rights and they’ve made a picnic right on the bed. Liam’s going to kill them. 

“Not,” Harry shakes his head and leans back against the headboard. He’s gotten a baguette from somewhere and Louis can see all the crumbs falling off Harry’s chest onto Liam’s pillow. 

“He’s being edgy,” Louis justifies himself. Harry snorts and bites into his roll.

“You’re being paranoid,” Harry tells him through a mouthful of bread. Louis sighs and falls back onto his back, packet of crisps resting against his chest. Harry’s right, he is. Has to be. 

“It’s like that movie,” Harry waves his hand around. “The scary one but it was parodied on The Simpson’s.” 

Louis frowns because he doesn’t know what Harry’s on about. 

“Or that one with Shia LaBouef, with the freaky neighbour.”

“Oh,” Louis nods, hair mussing up on the bottom of the duvet and pops a prawn cocktail crisp into his mouth, they have quite a selection spread across the bed. “And he spies on him from the window?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, reaching across the bed to grab a banana. “You’re all cooped up in the house so you think everything has a different meaning to what is really going on. Liam is too sweet to cheat on you. And anyway, if you actually thought he was, you wouldn’t be taking it this lightly. You’d be out following him or some shit, fake glasses and moustache to boot.” 

Louis snorts because Harry’s right and knows him too well. He’d have sneaked out after him this morning to make sure he did go to the gym. 

“You’re right.” He tells him because Harry brought him lunch so he can live through a minute of his smug grin.

“Course I am,” Harry grins and peels the banana. It’s nearly obscene and Louis finds himself watching him as he eats it. Harry catches him and it nearly becomes a work of art how he wraps his lips around the top of it. 

“It’s really a shame you aren’t gay,” Louis laments and finally looks away, grabbing a handful of crisps instead. “Some poor bloke could be getting the head of his life.” 

Harry laughs and chucks the skin at him, cheeks bulging with banana and a waggle of eyebrows that shouldn’t be as innocent as they appear. 

Louis settles back against the blankets again and thinks about it. He’s nearly sure that Liam wouldn’t do that to him and he would be devastated if he truly did believe he was but he can’t help the faint niggle at the back of his mind that something just isn’t right. 

“Anyway,” Harry smiles at him, reaching for a second banana. “I have something that might help you.”

“Oh yes?” Louis asks and peels off the edge of a Cheestring because apparently Harry’s idea of a picnic, bar the impressive bunch of bananas, was all the rubbish they ate as children. 

“Got you a job,” he grins. “A proper one too.” 

“Really?” Louis perks up. “It’s hardly been a week, I won’t even have the joy of signing on to look forward to.” If he’s being honest with himself he’s getting a bit bored by the whole moping about the house thing anyway. He needs to be doing something other than watching endless episodes of Loose Women and buying the entire Asos website, especially now that he’s not earning anything to pay for it. 

“There’s a new client in work that needs a PA,” Harry mutters around the top of his second banana. “He’s a mate of mine actually and it might’ve slipped my mind to tell Annabel -”

“Bitch,” Louis murmurs darkly to make Harry chuckle. 

“Yeah, well he’s pretty nice,” he pauses before grinning at him, “and he’s also pretty.” Harry laughs again at the way Louis raises his eyebrows. “He runs a design place not far from work, we sometimes hang out for drinks.” 

“What is the fact he’s pretty got to do with it?” Louis laughs and reaches for a second bit of cheese. Harry grins at him and shrugs. 

“Perk of the job.” 

Louis rolls his eyes as Harry giggles to himself. “You’re an idiot Harry, I’m happy with my pretty boyfriend.” 

Harry makes a noise of disgust and throws the second banana skin at him. Louis ducks and it hits his shoulder instead, reaching for the crisps to retaliate with and it nearly breaks out into a full food war when Harry flops over onto his side and crunches crumbs into the sheets. 

Liam is going to kill them.

*

Louis feels like his head is full of cotton wool when he wakes up, murky with the wine Harry had brought round after dinner and too sweaty from sleeping between him and Liam all night. 

“You have to wake up,” Louis murmurs, face smushed into the pillow. He has hot skin pressed up against his back and a mouthful of hair to his front. He kicks his foot, heel connecting with someone's shin, he can’t be sure whose the way they’re all tangled up and when he knees forward he catches Harry's thigh. 

“Harry, get the fuck up. You'll be late for work,” Louis scolds him without raising his voice too much - his head is too fluffy for that. 

“So will you,” he mumbles into his neck and snuggles closer. Liam clears his throat and Louis spares a thought to way back when he didn't appreciate Harry and Louis’ weird interdependent relationship. He can’t help but smile at how far they've whittled him down, so far that he's no longer fazed by the three of them sharing a bed after a few bottles of wine. 

“Not going,” Louis sighs and rolls back to push into Liam's body, hip catching his groin and listening to the low groan in his ear. 'Going to live a life of leisure. You know me Haz.'

Harry snorts and then snuffles a yawn into the duvet before rolling onto his back. “You have to go, Zayn’ll be pissed if you ditch him.”

“He doesn't even know me,” Louis protests, snapping his eyes open. Liam's gone rigid behind him but Louis hardly notices, pushing his bum out further to reconnect because his skin is nice and warm. 

“Zayn? Zayn who?” Liam asks, perking up and suddenly interested in their early conversation. 

Harry ignores him, pushing a hand into Louis’ shoulder and rolling him over so the light from the window hits him right in the eyes. He wriggles away from it and squints across the pillow at him.

“He’s a mate, I’m going to introduce you so he can be pissed at you in person. It would serve you right, you ungrateful piece of shit.” Harry complains and Liam clears his throat again.

“Zayn who?” he tries.

“Why would you do that though?” Louis demands. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I'm a great friend! I'm setting you up with a hot employer.” He pauses and glances up at Liam. “Nothing intended mate. Pretty sure he‘s seeing someone anyway.” 

Liam glares at him, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see over Louis’ shoulder better. “Who. Is. Zayn?”

“Some artist Harry's got me a job with.” 

Louis misses the way that Liam's face drains of colour and how stoic he looks when he pushes himself out of bed. 

“Harry,” he clears his throat again. “He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to.“

“See,“ Louis crows, drawing out the wold and fixing him with a smug grin. Except he's not really tired anymore anyway and could probably get out of bed no problem. 

Harry snorts. “The pair of you can go and sign on together then, really make a date of it.”

It's a bit scathing and Louis wants to refute him but Harry's right, and he's doing that thing where he guilts him into doing what he wants because in a short while Louis will realise that he’s doing it for his own good. He deliberates for a moment, torn between the warmth of his bed and the prospect of an easy interview. 

“Fine fine, I'll go.” 

Liam looks a bit disappointed so Louis grins at him. “Don't worry my little Liam-lime!” Liam winces at the nickname. “I'll be home before you know it and we can lie in bed all day. Sleep is, of course, optional.” 

Harry hacks a cough behind him and Liam manages a smile. “Can’t wait.”

Louis beams at him and slithers out of bed after him. Turning on his heel quickly to get the shower before Harry can. 

 

The office is swanky and bright at the front with fresh white desks and chrome finishes. It looks professional but once Louis steps in through the door he relaxes a bit. It’s noisy inside, speakers blasting from a dock somewhere at the back of the room and he can see that the sleek desks at the front give way to messier ones hidden near the back of the room. 

“Hey,” Louis introduces himself to the receptionist. She’s young, younger than Louis and has her hair piled on top of her head. Her eyes are ringed dark and she looks like she wouldn’t be seen dead wearing a suit, it makes Louis pull at his collar, feeling tightly over dressed and out of place in the bright office. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, I’m here to meet with a Zayn Malik?” 

According to the huge round clock on the wall behind her he’s late but Louis doesn’t mention it, neither does the receptionist when she just nods at him, swivelling around in her chair. With the way she leans on the corner of the desk Louis thinks she’s going to pick up the phone but she just braces herself against the edge and yells at the top of her lungs. “Zayn!”

“What?” Comes a voice from a door near the back of the office. It’s close to the speakers and Louis wonders if they really are going to have this conversation through the medium of yelling. The girl sighs and spins back in her chair, clicking onto her computer with a shrug. 

“He’ll get curious and come out in a minute,” she mutters, not lifting her eyes off the screen. Louis nods and sinks into one of the chairs near the door. He wonders for a moment what Harry’s got him into and whether he should send him a vaguely threatening text message or one to Liam to get him to come and pick him up but just when he reaches for his phone the music cuts off and the shouting gets louder. 

“Perrie? What is it?” 

The girl, Perrie, doesn’t move, just nibbles on the corner of her thumb until finally he emerges into the office and Louis feels his eyebrows raise on their own accord because _fuck_ Harry was right, he is all kinds of pretty. 

“Oh,” he pauses and grins at him, pushing his tongue behind his teeth in a way that makes him look a bit weird and a bit cute. He stops short beside Perrie‘s desk and puts all the weight on one leg, cocking his hip and making Louis slide his gaze down his body. He can feel his hands start to sweat. “Sorry, I forgot I had a meeting this morning. Come on back.” 

Louis scrambles after him because he’s already disappearing through the door, the music cranking up again once he’s over the threshold. Through the door at the back of the office is another room, bigger than out front and Louis pauses under the threshold to drink it all in. 

There’s a huge skylight brightening the room, shards of sunlight pouring over the huge canvases Zayn’s lain out. There’s one on the floor, covered in paint all sorts of colours and one that’s hanging off a wall at arm height, perfect for Zayn to paint it. The room is dominated by a huge metal framework and Louis isn’t quite sure what it is at the minute but it looks pretty with the sun sparkling off it. Zayn looks perfect under the light, shadowed by the angles of his own face and Louis suddenly feels like he’s walking into a perfume advert or something. 

“I didn’t -” Louis stops because this is still an interview and he feels an embarrassed thrill run up his neck - he should’ve probably googled Zayn before just turning up. Harry would’ve told him if he was a big deal right? 

Zayn grins at him and beckons him closer. 

“Come on in, man.”

Louis shuffles closer. There’s nowhere to sit so he hovers in front of him, in the open space of the workshop. 

“So, Louis,” Zayn starts but he’s not really paying attention to him so Louis feels his shoulders relax. “Do you like art?” 

Louis can’t hold in the quiet snort and Zayn’s eyes snap up, lips moving into a smirk rather than a frown and Louis is so grateful that he looks amused and not offended. 

“I’ll not lie,” Louis shrugs. “Not particularly bothered.” 

Zayn laughs and straightens up. “Nah, I’m not really either to be honest. It’s just something to mess around with between the actual designing.” 

Louis nods but doesn’t say anything because even if everything dotted around the walls is just messing about between jobs, it’s fucking fantastic, or Louis assumes it is - he’s never been good at art. 

“I’ve got a few big clients coming up, the London marathon and a thing for a local theatre but I’ll need you to help run the office day to day and promote the smaller gallery openings. Do you think you can handle that?” 

Louis nods mutely and Zayn grins at him. 

“Excellent,” he laughs and hammers at a bit of the metal. “Welcome on board.” 

Louis grins and lets his shoulders relax. He owes Harry a huge pint when he next see him and with a glance around the back room and the way Zayn starts to sing along to the music he think he's actually going to enjoy it.

*

“Fuck.” Louis shakes his head and stirs the veg on the hob. “He’s actually brilliant - you should see some of his work.” 

Liam hums uncommitted from the table, eyes narrowing as he watches Louis fix the dinner. 

“There’s this sculpture thing he’s making for a client - it’s for the marathon or something?” Louis shrugs and turns the ring down to one. “Well he was only supposed to design a mascot but he went and built a fucking sculpture too. I don’t really know why the marathon needs a sculpture -”

“It’s to commemorate twenty five years,” Liam butts in and then winces to himself. Louis hardly notices, the potatoes are about to boil over. 

“Right,” he nods distractedly. “Actually, Zayn mentioned something about that. Anyway, he’s made it all out of like bendy steel, it’s so cool. It’s looks like a big paperclip.” 

Liam hums again and stands up, shuffling over to the fridge. “Are you sure you want to work there?” 

Louis glances up at him and tries to hold back his _well, duh!_ expression, “uh yes. It‘s turning into the perfect job.” 

Liam makes a face and Louis feels his hackles immediately rise. “What’s the problem?” 

“I just -” Liam cuts off again and groans to himself out of frustration. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Well if you’re that bothered,” Louis snaps and drops the baking tray onto the counter beside the oven. Liam glares at him from beside the fridge, bottle of wine poised over a glass. “Then you can fucking go out and get a job then.” 

“There are none Louis,” Liam snaps and sips at his wine. Louis narrows his eyes, when did Liam start drinking so much wine anyway? They had always been a few beers or break out the bottle of shots people. “None for my level of degree at the minute.” 

“Yes, yes,” Louis waves his hand at him and turns back to the dinner. One of the kiev’s is singed around the edges so Louis slides that one onto Liam’s plate out of badness. “I forgot that you‘re just too overqualified for _all_ the jobs in London.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Liam sighs and crosses the kitchen to get a hand around Louis’ waist, settling it low on his belly. “It’s just I want us both to be happy,” he pauses, nosing along the nape of Louis’ neck. Louis can feel his resolve weakening. “And I don’t think you’ll be happy there.” 

“It’s an art gallery,” Louis shrugs him off and reaches for the potatoes. He can hear Liam sigh behind him because he’s still so close but ignores him. “And I’m doing practically what I had been doing before, except now I get to plan parties and Zayn doesn’t give a fuck if I take the lend of a bottle of vodka for the night.” 

Liam balks and takes another swallow of his wine. 

“What is wrong with you?” Louis asks again, hand on his hip and oven glove hanging off his wrist. "Do you have a problem with Zayn? Harry was lying, he's not _that_ pretty. You've nothing to worry about." 

Liam pulls a face and maybe Louis shouldn't have said that but when they fight, Louis normally ends up flustered and saying things he doesn't mean. 

“Nothing,” Liam sighs a moment later, shoulders slumping. “I just thought you’d be happier somewhere else.” 

“Well,” Louis shrugs and hands him a plate. “I think I’ll like it there. And he seems nice. He‘s invited us round to get to know us before we start working on his next exhibit.” 

Liam nods, a bit glum but Louis bites his tongue because he doesn’t want to start another argument and follows him over to the table where they eat in silence, both of them stewing in their own worry.

*

“It’s just a barbeque,” Louis tells him, reshuffling the box of beer in his arm and the bottle of wine under the other, cast getting in the way. “It’s sunny for the first time in ages and what other way would you want to spend it?” 

Liam sighs beside him but doesn’t say anything. Louis can tell by his expression that he’s still annoyed and it just pisses him off more. Hopefully he won’t sit and pout all night, Louis is nervous, it’s the first proper social outing with Zayn outside of work and as relaxed as the atmosphere is in work - he has the ridiculous urge to impress him. 

“Look,” Louis grins at him and finally reaches a hand up to ring the doorbell. “Harry will be here, it’ll be fun. Promise.” 

“Yeah,” Liam mutters but doesn’t try to sound too enthusiastic. Louis throws him a glare and presses his thumb against the bell again, listening to it drone on from the other side of the door. He can feel himself start to get annoyed and he knows that he’ll just have a shit night if he lets Liam piss him off more than usual. He’s been feeling that a lot more often recently. 

“What is wrong with you today?” Louis asks him just as the door swings open because he can’t let it lie. He clamps his mouth shut as Zayn appears at the door, a pair of black jeans on even in the heat and a slashed vest showing off all his tattoos. “Hey! Zayn!”

“Hiya Louis,” Zayn grins at him, eyes flickering over to Liam. There’s a moment of silence as Zayn flickers his eyes up Liam’s body, roaming over his chest and up to catch his eye. Louis glances between them, cataloguing Zayn’s smirk and Liam’s blush away at the back of his mind for sometime later. 

There’s part of him that’s ruffled, like Zayn is checking Liam out and then there’s a bigger part of him that’s a bit proud of that, because he’s _got_ Liam, all toned arms and rippling stomach under the stretched henly he’s wearing today. 

“So.” Louis rocks on the balls of his feet and jostles the box in his arms making the bottles of beer clink together. “You got a back garden then?” 

Zayn turns to him, smile faltering only slightly when he‘s not trained on Liam‘s uncomfortable expression. “Yeah, sorry, come on in.” 

Zayn’s house is just like the office, messy and modern under all the clutter. There’s paper everywhere, scattered over all the tables and slotted into the shelves. It’s bright and airy and Louis wants to steal the huge mirror in the hallway to stick in their living room at home. There’s music floating from somewhere just like back in the office and Louis recognises the voice as one that Zayn plays a lot. It sets a sort of party atmosphere and Louis hopes that tonight goes well. He glances back at Liam to make sure he’s behind him and Liam’s looking straight ahead, eyes trained on Zayn’s back as he leads them through the living room and towards the patio doors. 

Harry hugs him in the garden, already shirtless with a pair of tongs in one hand and a bottle of beer loosely cradled in his other. “Hey man,” he grins at him and Louis supposes he’s been there all day, since he left work the night before even. How Harry still has his job at the company and Louis doesn’t, Louis doesn’t know. 

Zayn does a round of introductions, Perrie’s tucked into the deck chair beside Zayn and talking to a few girls scattered about and the other two guys manning the barbeque near the lawn raise their glasses when he gets to him. 

“And this is Louis,” Zayn smiles at them all, taking a long pull of his beer and glancing over Liam speculatively again. “And Liam, who I’ve heard so much about.” 

Louis grins up at Liam and watches as he blushes a bit. He looks pretty when he goes pink, jerking his shoulders in a way that tells Louis he’s uncomfortable with everyone looking at him before he sinks into a camping chair nearest to him. Harry snorts at how he’s gotten flustered and Louis brightens his grin, cupping a hand over his knee where the denim’s worn soft to give him a pat on the leg. 

Zayn passes Liam a bottle of Peroni and Louis opens his mouth to protest, Liam never drinks Peroni but snaps it shut when Liam accepts it gratefully and with a smile wider than just being polite. 

“The famous Liam.” Zayn says quietly after the majority of the guests have went back to their conversations and settles into his chair, sunglasses perched low on his nose so Louis can catch just a hint of the nearly predatory look in his eyes behind them. It makes his stomach clench and he takes a gulp of his own beer to swallow past it, squeezing the fingers around Liam’s kneecap and shuffling his chair closer. Liam adorns a wane smile on his face and glances at them all before busying himself with uncapping the bottle of beer in his hands and Louis gulps at his again, warm and cloying at the back of his throat. 

It’s hot and once they all relax, Louis forgets all about the strangeness between Zayn and Liam, focusing instead on the icy pink mix Harry’s got in a jug beside him that tastes better than his warm piss beer and the honey chicken that Zayn’s mate Danny is cooking on the grill. Liam nips off to the loo while he’s chatting to Perrie and her friends but when twenty minutes pass Louis finally realises he’s been gone a while. 

“I’m just going to find Liam,” he tells Harry but keeps his voice down. Harry nods from his spot on the floor near his feet and tips his head towards the burger he’s stuffing into his mouth. 

Zayn isn’t about either but Perrie directs him into the house and towards the bathroom in the corner of the kitchen. It’s empty and Louis deliberates going up the stairs in case he’s up there, weighing it up with the possibility that Zayn would think he was very rude. He’s not exactly sure what the etiquette is when peeing in your boss’ house.

“Hey man,” Zayn appears half way down the stairs just as Louis hovers in the doorway to the living room. Louis jumps and looks up to find Zayn grinning down at him, eyes too narrow to be actually friendly. It sends a shiver down his spine but Louis blames it on coming into the shade after the heat of the sun outside. He’s imagining it all, he has to be. It’s just a combination of the drink and the sun that’s making him paranoid. 

“You haven’t seen Liam have you?” Louis asks taking another step into the living room. There’s a rug there and Louis’ toes sink into it. Zayn nods and jumps down the last two steps at once, eyes flickering over Louis. Louis can’t help but do the same. He looks a bit flushed, cheeks pink and collar pulled down low so he can see the peek of wings on his collarbone. What was he doing upstairs? 

“Yeah, I think I spotted him in the bathroom upstairs.” It sounds like a drawl and Louis vows to stop drinking when he goes back out to the party because he’s seriously starting to go mad.

Louis nods, sidestepping him and trying to make it not too obvious that he’s away up after him. Zayn laughs, tugs at his collar, pulling it down a bit so Louis sees the hint of red and fixing it back around his neck before waving a hand at him, shooing him up the stairs. 

“Up you go,” he laughs. “Second door on the right. Don‘t be too long.” 

“Right,” Louis forces a grin onto his face and takes the stairs two at a time. “Thanks man.” 

Liam’s just coming out when Louis reaches the top of the stairs. He smiles at him, a touch smaller than normal but Louis shakes his head and presses in close, placing is palm on his chest just high enough for his fingertips to touch warm skin over the neckline and he can push him back into the bathroom. 

“You alright?” Louis asks him with a slow grin and looks up at him. He looks pink too and Louis swallows the feeling of unease in his belly to push his thumb over his cheek, watching as it blanches white before going back to pink. “You’ve got the sun.“ 

“Just a bit, yeah,” Liam smiles tightly at him and Louis pushes up to kiss him, breathless and tasting the rum from Harry’s cocktail on the tip of his tongue.

“You speaking to Zayn?” Louis asks because he’s curious and a part of him is desperate for them to get along. Liam struggles to keep his face neutral and Louis runs his palm over his cheek. “What?”

He shakes his head and pushes in for another kiss, kissing him back just as feverishly until he pulls back to pant into the corner of Louis’ neck. Louis grins into the fabric of Liam’s t-shirt, pulling at the back of it so he can lick across a sliver of skin and taste the salty sweat there. 

“Louis, I -” Liam starts but stops when Louis pulls back and looks up at him. He looks nervous but Louis doesn’t pay any attention to him, pulling him in with a hand at his hip to kiss him again. 

“I get it,” Louis tells him quietly and Liam looks panicked for a moment. “You’re jealous. It’s fine, in fact, it’s kind of hot.” 

Liam’s shoulders slump and Louis can’t help grin at his expression. “You don’t need to worry,” he continues and steps back into Liam’s space. “I’m not interested in Zayn, just you.” 

Liam nods silently, a little robotic and grips the back of Louis’ shirt.

“I love you y’know Liam,” he whispers and it’s not the most romantic place to say it, in the middle of a relative strangers bathroom with the sun setting outside and too much beer in his belly but Louis means it and never wants to swallow down the words when he can smile and tell them instead. 

Liam’s face softens and he leans in to rub their noses together, something he only does when he’s feeling indulgent. Louis grips at his arms. 

“Yeah,” Liam sounds winded and it makes Louis’ toe curl against the tiles. “I love you too.” 

*

Liam’s standing at the foot of the bed, jacket on and a bag slung over his shoulder when Louis wakes up. Zayn had had him up late the night before and opened a case of beer while they worked so Louis’ head is a little fuzzy. Plus it’s still dark outside and therefore far too early to be awake. 

“Where you going?” Louis mumbles and blinks up at him, taking in his coat and stuffed bag. A quick dash of panic shoots through him and he sits up, head spinning for a moment. “You’re not leaving are you?”

Liam smiles at him and Louis thinks this is a cruel twist of fate if he’s gleeful about it but he shakes his head a moment later and Louis can deflate back into the headboard. 

“I’m going away for that retreat remember?” Liam asks him and Louis vaguely remembers something about a training weekend in Dorset. 

“Oh,” Louis nods his head, hair going static against the pillow and sits up again, holding a hand out for Liam to fold in against his chest. 

Liam breathes against him for a moment before wriggling out of his hold and Louis sighs, yawning quietly into his wrist and trying to blink his eyes open again. He knows he’s tired but he can’t work out why he isn’t more bothered about Liam leaving for the weekend. 

“I’ll miss you,” Louis smiles into his neck and pushes his lips out to kiss him on the scratchy skin there. Liam shivers and pulls away to smile at him. 

“Me too.” He ducks in to kiss him properly, once, chastely on the lips before he’s up off the bed. “I’ll only be a few days. Be back in no time.” 

“Yeah,” Louis grins and settles back into the covers as Liam slips out of the door. He doesn’t have to be in work until lunchtime and he intends to make the most of the morning off. 

He manages to sleep until the sun comes up and then trudges into work. Perrie’s filing her nails by the desk, feet propped up beside her keyboard and she smiles at him when he pushes through the door. 

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” she tells him and reclines further back so Louis can nearly see up her skirt her back’s that bent. “Zayn’s gone away for a few days.” 

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks as he drops into his seat, stomach sinking with the knowledge he could’ve stayed on in bed. 

Perrie nods and inspects her thumbs. “Gone off to Dorset or somewhere.” 

Louis snorts and opens his email. There’s a message from Zayn - _Gone on a last minute hol aha - phone the bank and make sure they’re going to pay you and have a good weekend. Phone you when I’m back! X_

“Dorset?” Louis asks and glances up. “You sure? That’s odd, Liam’s away to Dorset this morning.”

Perrie raises her eyebrows and Louis can tell it’s with a hint of bored sarcasm. “Small world, Tomlinson.” 

Louis nods, leaning back in his chair and for the first time in a long while wishes he had left a long list of things to work on. 

*

The flat is too quiet without Liam about and Louis is going to go crazy because he’s done everything Zayn’s asked - phoned the bank (they are going to pay him, thank god), got out of bed and went to the office to turn on the air conditioning when Zayn rang him last night after midnight, found a set of sleek tables for cheap to use on Monday evening and a low halogen spot lamp - because Zayn is apparently all about the environment now. He would think that Zayn is fucking with him, phoning him every few hours with a new crazy thing for him to find or do but Perrie’s been sent on similar errands so it isn’t that bad. 

He knows it’s not just that he’s been left to his own devices though in all the gaps between Zayn's demands. Liam hasn’t phoned him once while he’s been away and Louis wouldn’t say he’s a clingy person but he’s been feeling Liam draw away from him for a while now and it’s muddling with his head, so he would appreciate a few minutes on the phone with him. 

Liam’s phone rings seven times before he answers, slightly breathless on the other end of the phone but definitely Liam. 

“Hiya Lou,”

It sounds like he’s smiling but it isn’t as warm as it normally is. Louis swallows and tells himself to wise up because he’s thinking too much into it and he has to be imagining it. 

“Hey,” Louis greets him and clears his throat. He wishes he had done this after a few drinks. He flops back onto his bed and tries not to think of another time, when they were maybe in a better place and they’d be having phone sex right now. 

“What’s up?” Liam asks and there’s movement on the other side of the phone. Louis tries to listen but he can’t work out what Liam’s at, there’s a muffled movement of the phone and then Liam’s voice again, gritty and thin over the line. “Anything wrong?” 

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “Just missed you. Missed hearing your voice.” 

“Oh,” Liam says quietly and then slightly sweet. “I missed you too.” 

Louis smiles at the warmth in his stomach - maybe he has been imaging it.

“So how’s training? Do you want to hear about my day?” 

Suddenly there’s talking on the other end of the line and Louis strains to hear what the commotion is. It's getting louder and just sounds like one voice, loud enough to be actually there.

“Who’s that?” Louis asks because it’s after midnight and if Liam’s been working out the majority of the day he should be in a warm bath or fast asleep, not entertaining in his room. 

“Uh -” Liam trails off and Louis’ heart picks up a beat. “The TV. Just the TV.” 

“Yeah?” Louis’ voice has a higher pitch to it and he sits up because there’s something not sitting right in his gut.

“Yeah,” Liam defends and Louis can nearly picture his nodding head. There’s the rattle of plastic and then the unmistakable sound of a hand being placed over the receiver. Louis’ holds his breath, straining his ears to hear whatever Liam is hissing. He’s definitely talking to someone else, he’s sure of it and it makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. 

“Sorry Lou,” Liam says down the phone again, static clear as his hand is gone. “What were you saying?” 

There’s more noise, a distant garble of laughing that sounds familiar but Louis can‘t place it, if it‘s someone he knows or if he‘s heard it that many times on TV it‘s sunk into his brain. 

“Can you not turn the telly off Liam?” Louis asks and is shocked at how dejected his own voice feels like. 

“It’s uh, it’s next door’s TV.” 

It’s a lie. Louis knows it’s a lie. They are silent for a few long moments and Louis knows that Liam knows too.

“Oh yeah?” he plays along and Liam clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“You know what?” he asks and then gives a bit of a chuckle. It sounds like it’s bordering on hysterical. “I’m actually going to go and complain. I’m wrecked you know? And I need to sleep, they’re being ridiculous and completely disrespectful. I’m going to go and complain now Louis.” It’s all a rush and Louis fights to keep up. “I’ll see you tomorrow ok Lou? Bye, bye,” 

And then he’s gone and Louis is strung out, brain whirring in his head. 

He hardly sleeps so when his alarm goes off in the morning he rolls out of his bed instead of hitting snooze and actually makes it to work on time. Perrie looks shocked when he makes it there before ten and pushes a cardboard cup of coffee at him. 

“Just don’t tell Zayn,” she mumbles. “It’s normally cold by the time he gets here but he likes the gesture.” 

Louis nods distractedly and downs the coffee anyway, he needs it to wake him up so he can throw himself into setting up for tonight. He turns his anger towards Zayn, thinking more than once that he's a dickhead for disappearing off on holiday when he has an important exhibition that night instead of turning his problems with Liam over and over in his head again. It doesn't really work and he spends most of his day either snapping at Perrie or grinding his teeth together. 

Zayn waltzes into the gallery ten minutes before the first guests arrive and Louis hates him for it. He swallows it down though because he‘s in a dreadful mood himself and it isn‘t fair to take it out on everyone else, Perrie's given him enough reproachful looks to last a lifetime. He had left a terse voicemail on Liam‘s phone to tell him that he was invited but he hadn‘t heard anything back so it was just adding to his foul mood.

“Hey guys,” Zayn grins as he approaches them. He looks relaxed in a black shirt, top bottom open to show off the faint purple of a love bite and it fits with his smug expression. He swoops in to kiss Perrie on the cheek and she smiles at him, teeth shining in the lights they set up that afternoon. He slides a hand along her waist and turns his attention to Louis. “Good weekend Lou? You look like you wrecked it.” 

Louis manages a smile. He's avoided all mirrors today but he's sure he looks suitably worn out. “Yeah, didn’t sleep a wink.” 

Zayn laughs, that distinctive giggle loud and clear in the room and it hits Louis like a tonne of bricks all at once. He’s heard that before, tinny and distorted over a phone line but it’s definitely the same. It burns into his brain and he can’t get rid of it. Even as Zayn turns on his heel to schmooze some of the other guests. 

“You alright Louis?” Perrie asks him and he supposes he might’ve turned a little green. He nods tightly, hand clenched around the glass of water he’s got but he sets it down, more forcibly than normal and reaches out for the nearest glass of champagne he can find and downs it, wincing as the bubbles fizz in his throat and gurgle in his stomach. He’s had no dinner so it’ll go straight to his head, just that bit more potent than normal wine but he doesn’t care. Zayn's caught up with an art dealer or a critic or some other snotty brat that’s just came in the front door, gathering around to clamour for Zayn’s affections but Louis can’t be bothered anymore so he grabs his jacket off the rail in the cloakroom and heads for the tube, a plastic flute of champagne in each hand. 

It’s dark by the time he gets home and Liam is in bed, eyes shut and curled at the edge of the bed. Louis kicks off his shoes loudly, not caring if Liam is awake and if he is, he makes no motion to let him know so he undresses quickly and slides into bed beside him. 

It’s a humid night and Louis can’t sleep. He’s curled in a ball in the bed, eyes wide and staring at the breeze that’s floating through the open window of their bedroom. There’s a drone of a helicopter in the nearby sky and Mrs. Fielding’s cat from next door is screeching somewhere in the back alley and Louis can’t sleep. Zayn’s laugh is still rolling around in his head and he can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in his stomach. It’s making him feel sick, his eyes ache with tiredness but his brain is roiling, thought after thought making him feel ill. 

He trains his breathing with the rattle of Liam’s uneven breaths and knows he’s not asleep either so he rolls over and blinks at him. He’s on his back but he turns his head so he can blink sleepily at him, covers kicked down to his waist so the moonlight catches the dips of his stomach and rise of his chest. 

He stares at him for a moment and uses it to realise how different they’ve become. They would never have been this quiet on a night like this. They’d be giggling with each other under the covers or trying to wear themselves out with their tongues and fingers above them. Liam blinks at him slowly and Louis can nearly read the same thoughts in his eyes when he opens them again. 

“Are you cheating on me?” Louis asks because he can blame it on the heat and the wine later. 

It’s loud and definite in the quiet of the night but Liam’s silence is louder. 

Louis’ stomach instantly plunges because even though this has been boiling over in his brain for the past few weeks he didn’t actually expect it to be true. He feels his lungs deflate and he has to roll onto his back so he can gulp down a lungful of air, his head going light with it. 

A hot palm curls around his wrist and Louis feels the electric shock of it. He pulls away, whipping his hand up to his chest like he’s been burnt and he can’t help it, his face screws up before it happens and he lets out a messy sob into the scabby plaster of his wrist. 

“Louis,” Liam implores and he sounds just as devastated as Louis feels but Louis likes that because he deserves it. “Please, don’t cry.” 

“Oh my God,” Louis cries, eyes watering as it sinks in. He clears his throat but it sounds like another sob and he lets it out because why the fuck not, and then another and then another. 

Liam gathers him up in his arms and he hates him. He hates him for not telling him, hates him for going behind his back, hates him for being unfaithful. He hates him because he loves him too much and if he didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt this bad in the first place. 

He hates him because his chest feels warm and solid and comforting. His hand a reassuring weight running down the length of his spine and he hates how it makes him feel better when he should feel so much worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

It’s one of those days near the end of September when it’s _supposed_ to be crap weather and miserable but instead the sun is glaring down out of the sky and Louis feels too hot in his own skin. He’s wearing a tie, stifling around his throat and a crisp white shirt that he stole from Harry’s wardrobe this morning to wear to his fourth interview this week. It bombed, he knew instantly from the sympathetic glance of the receptionist and the grin of the woman who had went in before him that he’s not going to get it but he’s resigned himself to the fact that he isn’t the most impressively chatty person at the minute. 

He can’t even face the tube, ram packed with people skiving out of work early and just a wall of heat that he can barely breathe in so he skips it, shucking off his jacket and walking home in the unexpected sun. 

It happens by so much chance that Louis would think it was made up but he literally bumps into Niall just round the corner from the park. 

“Sorry,” Niall calls, steadying Louis with a hand to the shoulder that disappears as soon as it had been there. Louis looks up and feels the heat on his neck grow more intense as Niall’s eyes narrow and his expression dawns recognition. 

“Louis!” he shouts and the hand is back on his arm again, a firm grip around his bicep. “How are you?” 

Louis feels a bit dazed, too warm from the sun and half all wrapped up in his own misery that it takes him a moment to trail his eyes over Niall and catalogue how good he looks, hair bright and glinting under the sun and the jersey he’s wearing, a logo Louis’ never seen and a maroon that stands out against the people hurrying home from work. He’s wearing shorts as well and there’s a scrape of mud up his knee but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered. 

“Unemployed,” Louis mutters and then clears his throat because he sounds a bit maudlin. Niall just smiles though. 

“Still?” He laughs, big and bright and it lifts Louis’ spirits. “Jesus, we’d better get you a drink then!” 

Louis’ nodding before he can think about it because he’s still ages away from home and the walk is starting to become a hassle. He should’ve just braved the tube but that niggling little voice in the back of his head tells him that he wouldn’t have ran into Niall if he had. 

“Actually.” Niall laughs again, nice and loud. “How about we just go for a coffee?” 

Louis feels a wave of shame as he thinks back to the last time that he and Niall tried to go out for drinks but Niall is already giggling away and stepping into line with him, a hand around his forearm to tug him in the direction of the nearest Starbucks like it’s nothing to worry about. 

They don’t talk for a moment and Louis would normally feel awkward but he doesn’t. Niall’s grinning when he sneaks a glance over at him and the brush of his arm against his as they walk is like an electric pulse down his spine. 

It feels so new and comfortable, the complete opposite to how he’s been feeling the past month since everything changed that it doesn’t feel real. 

“How about ice cream instead?” Niall suddenly asks, hand reaching out to grab his arm and steer him down a different street. There’s a little café on the end with a window and Niall orders two cones. Louis grins at him because he feels like he’s eight again, head and heart lifted higher than it has in months as Niall passes him a scoop, flake sticking out the end. “To being unemployed!” Niall announces and Louis laughs, chest feeling even more weightless. 

He licks at his cone, keeping an eye out for how Niall does it, tongue darting out and then disappearing behind shiny, glossy lips. Louis wishes for a moment they had gotten ice lollies so he could watch him suck on them but the visual he’s got right now isn’t all that bad. 

He feels drunk off the sun and the laughter and Niall so he pushes in without thinking and brushes his lips against his. They’re cold from the ice cream, even when Louis feels overheated in the sun. Niall’s shorter, an inch or two closer to Louis’ height than Liam was and it means he doesn’t have to lean up as much, meeting his lip easily as they stand in the middle of the street. 

“Stop it,” Niall murmurs quietly when they fall away, voice sounding soft even though he’s chastising him. “Stop thinking about him.” 

Louis pulls back an inch, eyes meeting Niall’s as they calmly blink back at him. He doesn’t look angry and it’s such a relief that Louis sags back into him, a hand on his bicep so he can kiss him again. He can feel Niall’s grin against his lips and settles against him as Niall’s arm wraps around his back and lets him sink into it. 

*

“Go on,” Niall goads. “It’ll look great.” 

Louis pulls a face in the mirror and wonders how a flippant comment over lunch about wanting to be a different person led to this. They’ve been meeting more and more often lately and Louis loves it. He loves the way Niall is so cheerful all the time and it’s slowly pulling him out of his funk. It, however, has a downside because he seems to be up for pulling crazy shit all the time, like now, since he’s pulled a bottle of purple hair dye out of nowhere. 

“It’s not like I can dye it,” Louis tries to protest.

Niall shrugs and tugs a hand through his own hair. “Why not?” 

“Because I’m trying to get a job,” Louis argues quietly but they can both tell his heart isn’t in it. 

“Ah come on,” Niall laughs snapping one of the flimsy gloves over his hand. Louis looks at him dubiously for a moment before he pulls off his shirt. 

“Ok,” he smiles because Niall’s grin is infectious. “Let’s do this, brand new Louis right?” 

“Brand new Louis!” Niall announces and mixes the dye in the bottle. Louis watches him shake a few times, watching the way Niall’s arm flexes under his shirt. It’s not like he’s ripped, not like Liam was, but the definition below the hem of his sleeve makes Louis‘ mouth go dry. 

Niall tugs gently on his hair, making him tip his head back until his chin is pointed up towards the ceiling. He can still see the mirror if he strains his eyes and just enough of Niall’s expression to know that his tongue’s poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he skims the sticky goo over the crown of his head. 

The bathroom quickly fills with fumes making Louis light-headed but Niall hardly looks fazed and just keeps running his fingers through his sticky hair until it‘s all covered. He grins at him again when he’s done, patting at Louis’ shoulder for him to stand up straight again and Louis spins to face him without giving a glance at the mirror. 

“What?” Niall asks curiously at Louis’ stare. Louis shrugs. They’re tucked in close together - it’s not like Niall’s bathroom is huge to begin with but he can feel Niall’s breath against his shoulder and the hot pads of his thumbs as they skim either side of his hips. 

Louis isn’t sure who goes in first but all he cares about now is the goose bumps erupting across his ribs in the wake of Niall’s palm and how soft his lips actually feel against his. Niall kisses him harder, fitting a hand around his side and pulling him closer, stepping so their feet intertwine and he can push Louis against the sink. 

It feels so thrilling to be kissing someone else, someone who isn’t going to piss him off, someone who hasn’t had the chance to betray him yet, someone who wants him.

Niall gasps into his mouth before he’s tugging away, hands on his hips and pulling him out of the bathroom. 

Niall’s bed is in the next room, duvet kicked to the bottom in a tangle that tells him Niall rarely makes his bed. Louis laughs a bit because his brain isn’t really dealing with Niall stripping off the same way his body is and it‘s easier to take in minor details of his room, like the blue wallpaper and the overflowing drawers in the corner instead of the faint define of Niall‘s stomach and the jut of his hips. 

Niall grins at him when Louis glances back, hands at his own waistband with a languid pause that makes Louis think that Niall could be a right tease if he put his mind to it. He pauses a moment and Louis’ aware he must look a bit like a deer in headlights. He hasn’t done this with anyone other than Liam in nearly two years. 

“We don’t -” Niall cuts himself off because the way his eyes are roaming over Louis’ body tell him that he’s lying. He doesn’t think they could stop if they wanted to.

“No -” Louis shakes his head and takes a step forward. Niall’s even more lovely up this close. “I do, it’s just it’s -”

Niall nods and lifts a hand to settle his fingertips over his lips. “I get it. We’ll just - we don’t have to -”

Louis cuts him off with a kiss and Niall drops his hand, wrapping it across his neck instead and licking into his mouth. He goes down easily, flopping down onto the bed and watching, breath picking up until he’s nearly panting at the sight of Niall kneeling up onto the mattress, one knee on either side of his thighs. 

He settles over him, pecking at random bits of skin under his chin before he mouths over his jaw and finally kisses him again. Louis groans into it, stretching out over the bed under him and bringing his hand around to push at Niall’s back, bringing him close enough to grind up against him. 

Niall breaks off to pant against his shoulder, one arm flung out to trap one of Louis’ wrists against the mattress and the other skims up past his ear to tangle in his hair. 

“Fuck.” Niall breaks away from where he was sucking on his neck. Saliva cooling on his skin in sharp relief to the way the rest of him seems to be overheating. 

“What?” Louis asks. It’s hard to catch his breath like this, the warm weight of Niall on top of him and the way he feels stretched across the bed. He blinks up at Niall as he pulls away to sit astride Louis’ lap properly and Louis‘ fingers want to reach up and grab at his hips just so he can rut into him. He can see the faint outline of a bulge in Niall’s trousers and his fingers itch to undo his zipper. He brushes his knuckles over it instead, creeping up gently to hook a finger into his waistband. Niall makes a noise, leaning over again to nose at the side of his neck and run his fingers into his hair. 

“Hair dye,” he mutters and holds up a sticky palm for him to inspect. “Come on, quick.” 

Louis groans, drawing his knees up as Niall climbs off him and the bed. Niall giggles, going suddenly shy and Louis lies there for a moment, willing his dick to behave itself before he unsteadily gets to his feet, staggering after him towards the bathroom again. His legs feel like jelly but he can’t help the helpless giggle that rises up his throat, he hasn’t felt giddy like this in ages. 

“We’ll make this quick,” Niall promises and hits the button for the shower, glancing over his shoulder at him before looking down at the bath. He puts a hand under the spray and the other to his waistband, clearing his throat softly in the silence of the room.

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He wants to make a joke and hear Niall’s laugh again and he half wants to back out the door and make a run for it. 

A bigger part of him just wishes they had left it in his hair, let it all burn at the roots if he could keep kissing Niall and not have this stilted air develop between them. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself on the side of the bath but then Niall turns away from the shower, grinning at him in a way that makes his stomach flip and it suddenly isn’t awkward at all because Niall’s leaning in as the water warms up and Louis can’t help but meet him in a kiss. 

The bathroom fills with steam quickly and Louis’ mind lags behind as Niall strips off, kicking his jeans into the corner of the bathroom, the hint of teasing long gone, before he reaches for Louis’ waistband. 

“Oh,” he murmurs faintly as Niall’s fingers make quick work of the zipper, tugging his trousers down over his thighs and knocking at his knees for him to move. Louis’ too transfixed though on the way Niall’s dick is curving up towards his stomach, plumping up as the seconds tick by to figure out how the cuff of his jeans should really fit over his heel. 

“Louis.” Niall laughs when he looks back up again, eyes wide and lips parted a little. Louis groans to himself, making Niall grin wider because his mouth is oh so close to his groin.

“Yeah,” he tacks on, swallowing quickly because when they went out for coffee this afternoon, he in no way envisioned himself standing naked in the middle of a bath with Niall. The bath is slippery when he steps over the edge but Niall ghosts a hand over the base of his spine to reassure him, and the shudder that runs through him nearly over balances him again. 

It’s so much more erotic like this, hot water slapping off his chest and just the _sound_ of Niall behind him. A little laugh that huffs into the back of his neck in a way that tells him that he’s over the edge of the tub too. He feels his fingers first, pads of his thumbs on his neck before nails scrape into the back of his skull. He tips his head forward automatically, letting the water sluice over him, running in rivulets down his chest. It turns sudsy after a moment with a purple tinge as Niall gets rid of all the dye before it swirls down the plughole at his feet. His stomach clutches at the thought of what it must look like but it leaves his head as soon as Niall moves, pressing right up to him so he can feel the slick brush of his dick against his arse. 

“Christ,” Louis moans and moves his hand to scramble at something. His fingers close around a shampoo bottle and he grips it for dear life as Niall shifts behind him again, one hand moving down to steady his hip and this time the brush against him is much more deliberate, a slick graze of his dick into the cleft of his arse and Louis hunches over enough that he can press his shoulder up against the tile while at the same time pushing his arse out into Niall’s touch. 

He can hear his answering laugh but it sounds different under the water that’s pounding into his shoulder now. Lower, and rougher in a way that makes Louis stomach twist and his fingers squeeze around the bottle tighter, the lid of it biting into his palm making it easier to ground himself. 

It’s a bit forward and Louis has a moment where he nearly forgets Niall’s thumbs digging into the flesh of his arse while he tries to process the fact that he’s basically bent over, arse for the whole world to see in Niall’s shower. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been this forward, it’s much more up Harry’s street. With Liam, they went on date after date and took part in what felt like hundreds of sessions of heavy petting before he worked up to ever putting his arse on, for a lack of a better word, display. 

“Hey,” Niall’s voice suddenly cuts through the fog and Louis can feel his palm sweeping up his back to squeeze at his shoulder gently. The hand on his hip is gone and he can‘t feel the press of his dick against his arse anymore, he faintly misses it. “You ok? You sort of zoned out there. We can -” Niall sounds concerned and Louis doesn‘t want him to sound like that, he wants the sexy rumble of his laugh back again. “We can stop.” 

Louis’ shaking his head and turning around before he can think about it. When he’s face to face with Niall’s wide and open face, drips of water and pink across his cheekbones he fleetingly wishes he stayed facing the shampoo. 

“No no,” he shakes his head and reaches blindly for the button to stop the shower. The water pressure rises for a moment before it finally slows and comes to a dripping stop. It’s strangely silent now that there’s no sound of water. Niall’s biting his lip, one hand hovering near Louis’ hip like he’s not sure if he can touch again. In the silence Louis realises how hard he’s breathing, deep puffs of air that make his shoulders rise and he can hardly get his mind back on track so he steps forward, careful of the water and kisses Niall hard on the mouth. “Bedroom,” he manages to mutter against his lips before Niall’s pulling him back in to kiss him again, hand firmly planted on hip while the other one slaps against the damp tiles to make sure they don’t fall over. 

Niall’s lovely, wet skin slippery as Louis’ fingers skim over the heat of his neck and down to the ridges of his collarbone. Niall pants into his mouth when his thumb brushes his nipple, so he goes back to it, drags the pad of his finger over it until it firms up just to hear the noise at the back of his throat again. 

They stumble from the bathroom, Louis’ feet slapping on the bathroom tiles as they bump their way through the door and into the warmth of Niall’s bedroom. Niall pulls away from him, falling back into the mess of duvet and Louis’ mouth goes a bit dry at the sight of him spread out like that, arms out wide and legs parted, thighs pushed out to give him enough space to crawl up between them. 

Niall lifts his knees when he does, hooking one around Louis’ thigh to keep him close and grins up at him so nicely that Louis has to kiss him again.

He gets his elbow beside Niall’s shoulder before he drops down onto his forearm, planting himself properly between Niall’s legs. Louis wants to grind down into him, get their dicks together and squeeze around them but he pulls away from Niall’s lips to glance down between them and watch the heavy breaths of Niall’s stomach as it rises and the slow slide of his dick against Niall’s hip to get a smear of precome across it. 

Niall makes an impatient sound, turns it into a whimper when Louis finally drops down onto his forearms, slotting their hips together and rubbing up against him. 

“Fuck,” Niall groans into his neck and pants for a moment, a hand snaking up to grip at the flesh of Louis’ hip before he’s grinding up to meet him, dick catching against Louis in a way that sends sparks up his spine.

“Yeah.” Louis gasps, can’t get his breathing more even to sound calmer. Even though they’re both damp from the shower still and Louis has worked up a sweat, it’s just a hint too dry. Niall huffs a breath against his skin, rolling his head so he can bite at the juncture of Louis’ neck again, short nips that make his skin prickle and toes curl before Louis shifts onto his elbow, working a hand down between them.

They both groan when Louis gets a hand around them both, pressing the length of Niall’s dick up against his own and pushing his fingertips just below the crown. There’s a blurt of precome and he works it over them, sliding the way easier now. 

“Shit,” Niall babbles, sliding his palm over the round of Louis’ bum and rocking up into him quicker. “I’m gon-gonna -”

He gets a knee thrown right up over Louis’ thigh and pulls him in tight, groaning into Louis’ neck before he comes over his fist. The flicks of it spatter the top of his dick before it smears against his belly and Louis turns his head, mouthing at him, sloppily running his tongue over the slick of his skin before Niall makes a noise and turns to meet him, kissing messily as he bats Louis’ hand away to get his hand on Louis’ dick instead. 

His grip is a tight, firm pressure that slides down and twists on the way up, aided by a palmful of his own come. It makes Louis feel hot all over, hot at the back of his thighs and the arch of his back and where sweat is prickling at the nape of his neck and behind his knees.

“Niall,” Louis groans against Niall’s lip, breathing damply at his chin as Niall palms at his arse, fingertips slipping into the cleft of it again. “Fuck, I want to -” he pauses to catch his breath again. Niall’s fingers have slipped lower, skimming over his arsehole as his thumb plays with the tip of his dick. “I want to fuck you so hard.” 

Niall makes a noise, a mix of a groan and a laugh before he grazes his teeth over the skin of his shoulder and Louis’ coming, so seemingly out of nowhere that he can’t keep himself up and slumps down onto Niall’s chest instead. 

Niall gives him a pat on the bum, kisses the side of his cheek before pulling him into a proper hug, hand skimming up his back to make him shiver. 

“I’m a cuddler sorry,” he yawns into the side of his head. It doesn’t sound like Louis has much of a choice because Niall rolls them over a moment later, pushing him up so they can reach the pillows and somehow does it all without letting go of his hold around Louis‘ chest. “Shower later,” Niall tells him before Louis even gets a chance to speak. “Sleep now.” 

Louis laughs, glad that it hasn’t gotten awkward and even though he’s properly going to regret not showering in the morning he relaxes into Niall’s arms and easily falls asleep. 

*  


It takes him a moment to orientate himself, spread out in the middle of the strange bed he’s never woken up in before. The sheets are soft against his cheeks and they smell of sweat and bed and comfort but also something sweet that makes him think of messy blond hair and the train on a Tuesday morning. 

There’s no sign of Niall around the bedroom and Louis can’t help the disappointment in the pit of his stomach as he wraps one of the messy sheets from the floor around his shoulders and peers into the living room. 

He doesn’t want to poke around Niall’s flat because as much as he likes him - he’s still relatively a stranger. Which makes waking up in his bed alone a little bit more worrying. 

It’s sort of tidy, there’s stacks of things strewn all round his living room, pens and notebooks, old papers and a pile of dvds that are leaning dangerously against the wall under the window. The throw on the sofa is half on the floor and there’s a sideboard propped up in the corner covered in what Louis can only call crap. Louis sort of itches to snoop around but he doesn’t and forces himself down the hall and into the bathroom instead. The towel he was supposed to be using last night is slung over the rail and he fiddles about until he can get the shower to work so he’s under the spray before the streaks of come on his belly start to really annoy him. 

His fingers itch to start hunting through Niall’s underwear drawer, just a sneaky peek to see if he finds anything interesting or kinky but he bites his lip and snatches the first pair of boxers he sees, pulling them on before he can delve any deeper. His hair is a mess, streaked with purple that doesn’t look too bad near the front but is oddly patched around the back. The sheets on the bed are covered in it and it probably won’t wash out. Louis deliberates for nearly a whole minute, hands gripped around one of the pillows, whether to stick it all in the wash but then catches himself on, you can’t sleep with someone you hardly know and then do his laundry.

He thinks about hanging around for him but decides that’s just as creepy as washing his dirty knickers. He wonders for a moment if Niall disappeared so there wouldn’t be any awkward morning-after conversation and was giving him an easy way out. He doesn’t think Niall would be like that but if he is, well then Louis’ just going to have to eat everything in his fridge in a move of pre-emptive revenge. 

He snorts when he gets to the kitchen and bites down the bubbling wave of affection that’s making his chest tight. There’s a mug sitting by the kettle, tea spoon already sitting out of it with a post it stuck to the end like it’s a flag. It just has a smiley face on it but it makes him feel marginally better about the whole waking up alone thing. He potters about the kitchen while the kettle boils, finding the tea bags and Niall’s collection of cereal - all sugary and chocolatey and with pictures of cartoons on them. 

The kettle clicks off just as Louis wrenches the door open to Niall’s fridge and he reaches for the milk instinctively, pausing when he sees two extra post-it’s stuck on the lid. 

_Morning! I‘m away to football but make yourself at home! Eat all the cereal you want x_ The second is slightly scrunched and the writing is even more messy like it was added on last minute. _Or come down and see me! Whatever time you wake up sleepyhead!_

Louis grins, uncapping the lid to the milk and pretending not to be too much of a sap as he slips the notes into his pocket.

The park isn’t that far from Niall’s flat and he finds them pretty quickly, the only noise that early on a Sunday morning. 

“What are you doing you eeeejet?” comes a shout somewhere off in the distance, it sounds like Niall but isn’t him. Louis stops by the railings and watches them, scanning across the field until he sees him. He’s grinning at something and even from this far away Louis can tell he’s gone all pink from running. He’s wearing a pair of shorts that show off his bum and his jersey is pulled tight over his shoulders. Niall doesn’t see him but Louis prefers it like that, this way he can check him out all he wants without getting caught. He has no idea what they’re playing - some sort of mix between football and rugby but it looks fun and fast and Niall keeps going in for these tackles that make Louis wince and the lads around him shout louder, laugh at him when he comes out the other side with the ball. 

He spots someone out of the corner of his eye just a second too late and he curses at himself. Back straightening and eyes snapping away from where Niall’s nearly rolling around on the ground to get to the ball. 

“Lou?” Liam asks a little bit breathlessly but Louis can see that he’s in his gym gear so he must be out for a run. It’s not his normal route and Louis wonders for a moment if Zayn’s flat is somewhere nearby. 

“Hi Liam,” Louis mutters because there’s no point in out blank ignoring him but he keeps his eyes trained on the football field anyway. 

“What are you doing here?” Liam asks him, leaning his side against the wooden railing. Louis twists his head an inch to the left so he doesn’t have to see how Liam’s chest heaves with his breathing or how he looks all pinked up and slightly sweaty. He’s wearing one of those cut off tank top things and Louis hates him for a moment because now all he wants to do is plant his face into the space between his bicep and side and just stay there. 

“Just out - “ Louis cuts off lamely with a deep breath. “For a walk.” 

Liam looks around, eyebrows slipping down into a frown. “For a walk? You never go on walks.” 

Louis can feel it crawling up his throat, that mild irritation at just being _told_ what he normally does and doesn’t do. It was something that pissed him off back when they were together but now it’s all the more patronising. 

“Well Liam,” Louis mutters half under his breath. “I do a bunch of things I normally would never do now.” 

Liam nods and looks suitably chastised. “Sorry,” he sounds sincere and when Louis glances at him again he can see they way he’s fiddling with his iPod lead. “I just haven’t seen you in a while. I wondered - “

“Yes?” Louis looks up because sometimes he’s a sucker for punishment. 

“Was just wondering how you were getting on - “ Liam cuts off again and finally meets his eye. Louis catches his breath and curses himself again because sometimes it’s hard to just forget all about everything they’ve shared. 

“I’ve been fine.” It sounds snappish and it elicits a sort of pitying look on Liam’s face. Louis shakes his head and tries to unclench his hands in the pocket of his hoody. “I mean it,” he sounds softer this time and it’s much closer to the truth, because he has been fine, as fine as he could be. “It’s taking me a bit of getting used to, living with Harry and everything but it’s great.” 

He leaves out the whole bit with Niall because he doesn’t know exactly how it fits into his life yet never mind whether there’s any point telling Liam about it. He glances back onto the field and spots him immediately, head tilted down when he goes into clash with another player. 

“That’s good,” Liam sounds a bit miserable and Louis allows a second of satisfaction to thrum through him before he swallows it down because he’s not that petty anymore. 

They stand there for a few more minutes in silence, Louis keeping his eyes on the players but not really seeing what they’re doing. Liam keeps hitting his toes off the pavement and fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. 

He clears his throat and Louis can hear him take a deep breath in the lull of the wind. “Do you want to maybe get coffee or something?” he asks tentatively. “I could maybe make us dinner or something? That fancy pork thing that you always like at Christmas time?”

Louis pauses, fingers curling in to clench into a fist again. He looks up, Niall’s laughing at something, pushing playfully at one of his teammates. He could technically slip away and Niall would be none the wiser but he finds his feet rooted to the ground and he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Liam.” 

Liam’s face falls again and Louis takes a moment to see how upset he is before he looks away again. The wooden fence they’re standing at is chipped and splintered from the weather. Someone’s scratched a set of initials into it and Louis wonders if HJ & MD really lasted 4Eva. 

“That’s alright,” Liam attempts to smile at him. “I get it.” 

He’s glancing over at the group of lads in the field and when Louis looks up he locks eyes with Niall nearly immediately. He’s standing a little bit away from some of the other guys, ball at his feet and a bottle of water in his hand, practise clearly over. Louis’ too far away to really make out the expression on his face but close enough to see how Liam’s sinks further as he puts the pieces together. 

“Ok,” he smiles again and awkwardly pats at Louis’ shoulder. “I’ll see you around yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Louis smiles at him before ducking underneath the wood. Liam stands and watches him but Louis has to turn his back to him and focus on putting his feet one in front of the other to reach Niall in the middle of the field.

He sort of feels sick, torn between reaching Niall and turning to run back towards Liam. 

“Heya,” Niall chirps, face evening out into a neutral expression even though his eyes keep darting over Louis’ shoulder to where Louis knows that Liam’s still standing. “You found us then?” 

He waves a hand in the vague direction of some of the other men still hanging around. They’re all mud splattered and Niall has a dusty red mark on his shin that’s going to turn purple before the day’s over. 

“Yeah,” Louis grins at him. “Wasn’t hard to find a group of half mad Irishmen in the middle of the park.” 

Niall grins at him, eyes sparkling as he takes another gulp of the water in his hand. Louis watches his throat move, his own mouth watering slightly at the thought of nipping down his neck and mouthing at his collarbone. Niall smirks at him. 

“Fancy hitting the pub?” he asks with a shrug, recapping the bottle and throwing it at them. He backs up a few steps until Louis falls in step with him and they make their way towards the small dug out at the opposite side of the pitch. “We normally head to the Hen and Duck after training but - “ he cuts off and rubs at his bottom lip with his thumb, eyes trailing over Louis in a way that makes him shiver. “But we could just head back to mine?” 

Louis thinks for a moment. Niall looks sort of hopeful in front of him, cheeks pink from running and lips red from biting at them. He looks utterly relaxed as well though, hip cocked to the side and jacket slung over his shoulder.

He feels sort of, excited? He’s not quite sure but everything is so new and refreshing. He’s nodding before he’s really processed the thought and Niall laughs again. 

“Is that a ‘yes’ to a pint or to going home?” Niall asks finally stooping down to pick up the last of his belongings off the bench. 

Louis twists his smile into a smirk and grabs at Niall’s jersey to pull him closer. “What do you think?” he asks into his lips, leaning in to kiss him quickly on the mouth before ducking away. Niall laughs again but it sounds lower, which he learned means he’s turned on and Louis can’t help shivering again. 

“See you later lads!” Niall calls over his shoulder and grabbing Louis’ wrist to tug him back in the direction of his flat. They all call out to him and Louis catches a few whistles amongst the laughter but he’s too wrapped up in Niall’s palm, hot against his skin and the click of his football boots against the path because he hasn’t bothered to take them off. 

They cut across the field again because there’s a gate at the opposite end of the park, just at the top of the hill that gets them back to Niall’s and Louis can’t help giggling at the way Niall tugs on his arm and makes him run up the incline. 

“What were you playing?” Louis asks him as Niall pulls at the collar of his jersey again and bounces the ball down onto his toe. It comes back with a dull thud and Niall catches it easily against his chest even though Louis feels like he‘s walking at a 45 degree angle.

“Football,” Niall tells him seriously and Louis rolls his eyes. Niall catches him and grins. “Ok, not your English kind.” 

Louis snorts at the way he says English and reaches across to muss at his already dishevelled hair. It’s sticky and knotted and Louis wonders for a brief moment if he even showered since last night. The thought sends a thrum of heat through his belly and he doesn’t even notice how Niall’s dropped all his stuff and has wrapped an arm around his waist.

“The proper kind you mean? Hey, what’re you - “ Louis’ cut off, his stomach lurching as his feet are taken from below him and the sky pitches sideways. He hits the ground hard, all the air whooshing out of his chest as Niall laughs loudly into his ear. 

“My kind’s better,” Niall announces to him, arm pinning his shoulder and knee settling easily by Louis’ hip so he can perch himself low on his belly to grin down at him. He’s still a bit pink and Louis wants to reach up and crush his lips to his once he gets his breath back again. He’s silent for a moment before he leans down. Louis reaches up for a kiss but Niall ducks away with a giggle, arm wrapping around his neck instead as if he’s going to hug him. 

“You ready?” he asks ducking his head into Louis’ neck. Louis doesn’t have time to ask what the fuck he’s on about because next thing he’s tipping onto his side, leg hooking around his waist to drag him with him and then kicking off again so they keep rolling. 

“Niall!” Louis can’t help squawk because rolling back down the hill they’ve just trudged up is not what he had planned for his Sunday lunchtime. The snorting, too short of breath, laugh he gets from Niall in response is lovely though and he doesn’t mind when he lands on horizontal ground again, Niall still settled in his lap pinning him down against damp grass. 

“That was fun wasn’t it?” Niall asks him quietly, finally dipping to brush his lips across Louis’. Louis nods against him, bringing a hand up to cup at the back of his head. He knows they looks ridiculous, tangled together at the bottom of the slope like children playing on a sunny day off from school. He licks across the seam of Niall’s lips and hopes, just for a split second, that Liam is still about to catch a glimpse of him.

Niall gives in for a moment, opening his mouth and kissing him messily, tongue meeting his before he’s popping up quickly onto his feet again. 

“Come on.” He has a hand out to help Louis up from the ground and he gladly takes it, lips turning up into a smile when Niall doesn’t drop it once he’s on his feet. 

*  
He caves, because he can’t help it and when Liam asks him to call round to the flat to get the last of his stuff he says yes. 

It’s odd being back. This used to be his home, where he felt safe and content and happy but now, standing in the middle of the living room he doesn’t want to be there any longer than he has to. 

It’s not just because it’s so close to the bedroom but it doesn’t feel like his anymore, tainted by something that makes him uncomfortable.

It’s weird being back around Liam too but Louis‘ choosing not to dwell on it. 

“This guy you’re seeing,” Liam pauses and looks desperately nervous for a moment. “Niall isn’t it?” 

Louis frowns. “How do you know his name?” 

Liam looks caught out for a moment, cheeks pinking up before he shrugs. “Em, Harry might have mentioned it plus, Jade knows him, mutual friends and all that?” 

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks and Liam nods quickly Louis wants to shove his foot into Harry's huge mouth. 

“Anyway, he’s - it’s not anything serious is it?” Liam asks quietly, picking at a thread in one of the cushions before looking up hopefully. Louis shivers and looks away. 

“Look Liam, I didn’t come here to talk about him. Fuck,” he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know why I’m here. All I can think about is _him_.” And suddenly they aren’t talking about Niall anymore.

“Louis,” Liam half gasps and reaches forward to take his hand. Louis lets him for a moment, the familiar warmth of his palm in his before he shakes his fingers out of his grip. 

“Him sitting here, him in our bed, him in you. Have you fucked on this couch?” Louis asks him. He sounds flippant but his heart is hammering in his chest and he doesn’t know how to stop his mouth from talking. He can remember being face down against the cushions they’re sitting on right now and he wonders if Liam ever did it here with Zayn, the pair of them too wrapped up in each other before they even make it to the bed. It’s makes him feel ill when he thinks about it for too long. 

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Louis repeats and stands up, like the sofa is burning the ass of his jeans. Liam jumps up too and holds out an arm to stop him from leaving. 

“It’s over,” Liam’s begging already. “I promise, we’re over. I want you Lou.” 

“You’ve just decided?” Louis asks. “Just like that?” 

There’s a tiny part of him that’s just dying to believe him. 

“Yeah,” Liam nods so earnestly that Louis wants to pet at his hair and kiss him softly. “Yeah I promise.” 

He steps forward and Louis doesn’t move, feet frozen on the ground. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling anymore. Liam’s acting so lovely and he knows that he’s going to try and kiss him and when he does, Louis isn’t sure if he’s going to stop him or not. He steps in close, breath brushing softly over his cheek as he raises a finger to Louis’ chin. Louis lets his eyes close and he’s not in the room anymore - he’s in Niall’s living room and it’s him that’s moving his face up to kiss him properly, his breath he can feel against his skin and it's him that make tiny butterflies in his stomach erupt. 

“No,” Louis shakes his head and takes a step backwards, blinking the image of Niall out of his head when he focuses on Liam again. His shoulders are slumped in disappointment and he opens his mouth to say something when the phone rings, shrill in the silence of the apartment. He glances guiltily at Louis before he reaches over to pick it up. 

“Hey,” he mutters into the phone, eyes trained on Louis as he backs away into the kitchen a bit. Louis can still see him though and watches as he turns around, shoulders tensing so he can run a hand through his hair. “Oh hey Jade, yeah Jade, yeah.” 

His voice is going higher and he laughs in a way that he only does when he’s nervous and Louis knows, _knows_ it isn’t Jade on the phone. That _dickhead_. 

“Yeah,” Liam’s finishing up on the phone. “Listen I’ve got to go, see you later Jade, yeah bye Jade, bye.” 

Louis glares at him when he hangs up the phone and Liam falters for a moment. “I’m just going to nip to the loo.” He holds a hand over his shoulder and backs out of the room quickly and as soon as the bathroom door closes Louis is over the back of the sofa and grabbing at his phone to see for himself. He dials 1471 quickly, stabbing the three button and waiting for the dial tone. 

It only rings twice before it picks up. 

“Why did you pretend I’m Jade?” The voice on the other end demands flatly. “You know I hate when you do that. Liam?” 

“Sorry,” Louis mutters and it sounds distant to his own ears. The bathroom door opens and Liam freezes when he spots Louis, face blanching and mouth opening. 

“Who’s on the phone?” he asks quietly when he gets his lips to work. His voice has a resignation to it like he knows he’s been caught. Louis glares at him, fingers gripping tighter around the plastic of the phone. 

“Liam?” Zayn asks on the other side of the phone. “What’s going on?” 

“Sorry,” Louis apologises again. “Liam can’t come to the phone right now.” 

“Fuck,” Zayn mutters in realisation but Louis is already pulling the phone away from his ear as Liam steps forward. 

“Louis, listen.” 

“No,” Louis shakes his head, slamming the phone onto the counter in the kitchen. “You wanker! What? Do you think I’m going to come back to you for you to pull this sort of shit all over again?” 

“Lou,” Liam pleads but Louis can hardly hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. It feels like his blood is boiling and it takes all of his energy to reach for his coat and not curl his fingers into a fist and slam it into Liam’s face instead. 

“Fuck you.”

“Louis!” Liam follows him out of the flat and right the way down the stairs but Louis ignores him and keeps walking. Liam trailing behind him until he finally gives up and allows Louis to storm off on his own. 

He ends up at Niall’s, which isn’t surprising because he’s the only person that’s been rotating through his head for the past week. He presses his thumb against the doorbell without really thinking, desperate to just see him, something in his head making him think that he'll make him feel better. 

Niall answers in his boxers, rubbing at his eye and Louis’ stomach falls. 

“Shit,” he backs down the step. “Sorry, did I wake you? God how long did it take me walk here? Don‘t mind me, forget about it.” 

He’s rambling and obviously looks upset because when he blinks again Niall's expression has lost it's sleepiness and he just looks worried now. 

“Just ignore this ever happened,” Louis stutters and backs down the steps. Niall’s quicker, even though he’s still half asleep and has a hand around Louis’ wrist before he gets two feet onto the pavement below. 

“Come here,” he says quietly, welcoming him into the circle of his arms and the warmth of his flat. 

Louis tries to swallow down the lump in his throat, he’s cried enough on Niall’s shoulder about people Niall shouldn’t be concerned about and he doesn't want to make it a pattern. 

“No,” Louis insists weakly and tries to untangle himself. Niall shakes his head and walks him through his flat instead. The lights are off and Louis feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate a little when they reach the bedroom and it’s all bathed in warm light from the lamp on the bedside table. “Were you busy? Sorry.” 

Niall pulls away and offers him a small smile before turning and grabbing Louis a shirt to change into. 

“Just doing reading for work tomorrow. It’s no big deal.” 

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologises again and his voice sounds thick. Niall pushes the t-shirt into his hand and Louis’ throat hitches because it feels so soft and warm.

“Hey,” Niall whispers pushing his knuckle under his chin and pulling him up so Louis can’t really avoid him even if he wanted to. “You’re ok, right?” 

Louis nods his head shakily and his stomach settles under Niall’s smile. “Yeah,” he replies quietly and Niall ducks in to kiss him gently on the lips.

“Bed?” Niall asks him quietly, a hand cupped around his cheek. Louis nods, half nuzzling into Niall’s palm on purpose before pulling away to shrug off his jacket. Niall watches him for a moment with a slow smile before he reaches forward to help tug at the button of his jeans. 

Louis’ dick twitches out of interest - who could blame him - but when he kicks his jeans off and crawls into the spot of the mattress that Niall's already warmed up for him, he just wants to sleep. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall murmurs once he’s settled and got all the lights off except the small lamp away in the corner of the room that makes everything glow hazy in half dark. Louis turns his face to him and Niall’s right there, face open and welcoming. He lifts a hand and slides it onto Louis’ cheek, hot against his cold face from the walk over and a thumb that settles heavy against his nose, just there like a comforting weight. Louis lets it push his head into the pillow and he blinks slowly, opening his eyes to see Niall still there like he said he would. 

“No,” Louis answers honestly and then scrunches his nose. “Yes… I don’t know.” 

Niall smiles at him gently. “Is it -”

He breaks off and Louis’ worked out by now that Niall doesn’t like bringing up Liam if he can help it, he just hasn’t worked out if it’s for his own benefit or not. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out so he doesn’t have to ask. “I just think it’s finally getting through to me. I seen him today, just before I got here and it was just different, but the same.” 

“Good different?” Niall asks quietly and he can sense the hesitation behind it. 

“Just different,” Louis mumbles, lips uncooperating. “Strange.” 

Niall doesn’t say anything, just slips his calf between Louis’ ankles so Louis has something to hold onto as he swipes his thumb against his cheek. 

“Made me realise how much I like this,” Louis mutters quietly because he feels tired and exhilarated and loose lipped all at once. “Much I like you.” 

Niall grins at him, eyes crinkling and teeth shining in the low light. Louis inches forward as far as he can under the weight of Niall’s palm against his face to peck at his lips. Niall smiles wider, pushing until their foreheads meet and he can kiss him again, licking warmly into his mouth and threading his hand into his hair. Louis lets himself be kissed, forgetting about the taste of Liam and focusing on Niall and Niall’s lips and how Niall is rolling him onto his back with a knee between his and how he’s not so tired anymore, stomach swimming and dick slowly plumping up with every hitch of Niall’s hips and lick of tongue. 

They kiss for a while, Niall getting comfortable on top of him and bracketing him in against the pillows and the too warm of the duvet. He can feel when Niall’s hard against him, the hot line of him pushing into the dip of his belly when Niall starts to roll his hips against him and swallowing the low whines from the back of his throat. 

He feels hot all over, like his skin is stretched too tight over his chest and down his back, spine straightening and curving up into the friction of Niall’s stomach. 

It’s quiet, too quiet for Louis normally. He likes laughter and joking and the sounds that Niall makes when Louis kisses him just right but there’s only the sound of their breathing, growing harsher and more desperate as they rut together, lips sliding messily together until Louis can’t take it anymore because he knows it isn’t enough.

“Niall, I -” Louis breaks the silence and regrets it once Niall pulls away, hips lifting off him so Niall can sit astride his thighs, a heavy weight that pins Louis to the mattress. Louis grinds into air and whines a bit to make Niall’s eyes widen and his smile grow across his face. 

“What is it?” he asks softly, like he doesn’t want to be too loud either even though it’s only the two of them in the whole house. Louis curls his fingers into the sheets on either side of Niall’s sides and pulls him ever so closer. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Louis blurts it out because he’ll never say it if he doesn’t say it quick. Niall goes rigid, freezing on top of him in a sort of curve over him so Louis can’t keep the pressure on his dick or touch Niall’s either. 

“Are… are you sure?” Niall asks very carefully and Louis could kiss him for it. There’s a nervousness crawling into Louis’ belly, just because he hasn’t in a while and with Liam it was different, normally the other way about and they were already so familiar with each other. This is all new and Louis can feel that insecurity that comes with baring himself completely to someone new.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out and finally reaches up to pull Niall down against him again, meeting him square in the eyes when he thumps down onto his chest. “I want to, I really want to, with you.” 

Niall gasps against him, sinking in to kiss him in a slow and languid way that only ignites a more urgent want inside Louis. 

“C’mon,” Louis whispers against his lips, dragging wetly against his chin as he rucks up Niall’s t-shirt with his hand to scrape his nails down his side just to feel him shiver against him. He’s insistent with his pulling though and Niall sits up, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing up onto his knees to get his boxers down over the curve of his arse. Louis watches him, smiling growing as Niall struggles to wriggle out of his underwear. He curls into his chest, huffing a laugh across the collar of Louis’ t-shirt as he kicks out of them and settles back in his lap, Louis’ hands going automatically to his hips again, thumbing into the muscle of his stomach before letting his hands wander, palms sliding over the warmth of his bum until his fingers just skim the crack of his arse. 

“Thought you were the one being fucked?” Niall asks a bit breathless from above him, shuffling further up his chest with every insistent prod from Louis. Louis beams up at him, running his tongue over his bottom lip as his eyes rove over the pink flush making its way down Niall’s chest.

“I’m an equal opportunities kind of guy.” Louis shrugs, dipping the fingers of his left hand into the crevice of his bum and balancing his other hand at the base of his back to feel the heat there, urging Niall up closer to him until Niall has to balance with a hand on the headboard and Louis can lap at the head of his dick without moving too far from the pillows he’s sprawled across. 

He flutters his tongue, keeping one hand where it is keeping Niall steady and the other wrapping around the base of his dick, squeezing gently as he swallows more down, getting the wet of his tongue on him and feeling him grow hot and heavy in his mouth. His mouth will ache from this later and his neck too from the way he’s starting to strain up to swallow more of him down. Niall groans above him, hips inching forward with the way he’s tilting up and Louis can’t help but skim a hand down over the smooth of Niall’s bum to feel the strain in Niall’s thighs and rest behind his knee. 

“Fuck,” Niall breathes out quietly, breaking that silence that has grown between them, long and warm and intimate. Louis says nothing, he can’t with the way Niall fucks in deeper to his mouth and he relaxes his throat, swallowing him down with a moan at the taste of him across his tongue. Niall makes another noise, half way to a groan and then he’s suddenly gone, pulling out and falling back across Louis’ lap, twisting himself to push at Louis’ waistband, urging him to lift his hips so he can push at the elastic. “Louis, you’re just -” He doesn’t finish his thought, licking a stripe down the side of Louis’ dick instead to get him wet. 

Louis mind goes blank for a split second, jaw aching but mouth watering for more as Niall sucks at him, hot and wet and fast. He turns his head nuzzling into Niall’s thigh and wondering how he can get his mouth back to Niall’s dick with the way he’s lying half twisted diagonally away from him. 

“Niall,” he whines when he does something spectacular with his tongue and he has to give up his search, sinking his teeth into the muscle beside him and clenching a hand in his hair just for something to do with his fingers. 

He pushes him off, scrambling up and pushing at his shoulder so he can kiss him, the musky taste of himself on Niall’s tongue sending his mind into a spin as Niall’s fingers frantically work at the shirt he’s still wearing. 

He’s so hard he could cry, a deep pressure in his groin and down the back of his legs. When he tries to rock into the V of Niall’s legs Niall pulls away with a laugh and a hand at his stomach. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he slurs, one hand half pulling him closer again and the other patting far at the other side of the bed as if the lube will just appear where he wants it. “Don’t want to until I’m inside you.” 

Louis groans, rolling away because that sounds nice and he’d rather that than coming all over Niall’s slowly developing abs - even though that sounds good too. 

Niall rolls over onto his front and Louis watches as he reaches a hand into the cupboard beside the bed, grinding cheekily into the mattress as he does. Louis pushes up along beside him, desperate to touch his skin again so he can plaster himself to his side and bite along the curve of Niall’s shoulder. 

Niall laughs rolling back into Louis and for a moment they totter along the edge of the mattress. Louis doesn’t care because it gives him the excuse to wrap a leg around Niall’s hip until they have to cling to each other, kissing messily so Louis can rub his lips against the faint hint of stubble along Niall’s chin and bite at his jaw. 

Niall laughs again and it makes Louis’ stomach flutter as they roll more into the middle of the bed, Niall settling between Louis legs and pushing his thighs apart. Louis groans, letting them fall and not thinking of how he’ll ache tomorrow, too eager for Niall to get his fingers to work. 

He pushes in slowly, first past the ring of resistant muscle and starts to tease at his hole, pulling too gently against him before working up the knuckle. Louis rolls his hips, trying to get used to it after all this time and it’s easy when he looks at Niall, all pink with a sheen of sweat, mouth open as he concentrates on working a second finger into him. 

There’s a burn but Louis revels in it, letting his mind blank out on everything else but the sting of the stretch and how his dick is beginning to stir again with every pant of air Niall breathes down on it. 

Niall pushes in carefully what feels like hours later, when he’s stretched and sore and one step from begging for him to get on with it. He laughs a bit when he finally bottoms out, a hand on his hip, thumb biting into the skin stretched across his hip bone. 

Louis can hardly breathe but it feels good, his chest working overtime, heart hammering in his ears as Niall pulls out to slam back into him. 

“Fuck,” he chokes out and lifts his leg higher, hooking his wrist behind one of his knees to keep it up and out of the way. Niall groans, rolling his hips and gathering up a rhythm as he fucks into him, neck bowing so he can place a sloppy kiss against his knee. There’s something in his eyes and Louis wants to wrap his legs around him, hug him to his chest and kiss him sweetly but Niall’s pulling back, standing up straight to steady himself enough to fuck him. 

Louis groans and he’s hard again, hot against his belly, aching to be touched. Niall doesn’t move his hand though, one palm wrapped around his other leg and the other against the taut muscle of the back of his thigh watching where they meet. 

“I’m -” Niall swears, hips pumping erratically before his face scrunches up in the most adorable frown, wiping away into a perfectly blissful smile. He stills and Louis nearly screams, bucking against him to get him to move. 

“Sorry,” he laughs and pulls gently out. Louis groans but his fingers are there before he can properly complain, prodding in and pulling where he’s sensitive. Niall uses his other hand to lower his leg, the burn in his thighs cutting through the fog in his brain as Niall settles between them against the duvet. 

He only has to tongue at his slit before Louis’ coming with a shout all over his lips. 

 

*

“Are you coming home?” Harry asks and Louis shrugs. He’s sprawled out over Niall’s bed, which he’s just made for the first time in months probably. Niall’s banging about in the kitchen somewhere making lunch and the sun is just hitting the corner of the bed where Louis’ hanging over the edge. 

“Can’t see you,” Harry sighs over the phone and Louis grins up at the ceiling. The song in the living room changes over and he can hear Niall belting out the lyrics to Bublé. 

“Sorry,” Louis giggles. “I keep forgetting that. I haven’t been away that long.” 

Harry huffs on the other line. “I haven’t seen you all week. I thought we’d maybe go for a drink tonight. It’s a nice day, we could find a beer garden. That is if you can tear yourself away from _Niall_.” 

“Aw are you missing me Harry?” Louis grins and sits up when he starts to hear a phone ring. It’s muffled, buried under the duvet and it must have got caught there when Louis made the bed. Louis can tell it‘s the house phone though and he has no idea how it got under the mattress. “Hold on a minute,” Louis tells Harry, sticking his hand under the duvet until his fingers curl around cool plastic. The voicemail clicks on just Louis goes to answer. 

“Hiya,” Niall says sunnily from the console on the dresser beside the window. It’s not the real Niall because Louis can still hear him crooning in the kitchen. “Leave a message and I’ll get back to ya!” 

“Aw you should hear how cute Niall sounds,” Louis pulls his phone back to his ear all set on gushing to Harry to purely annoy him when his stomach drops. 

“- your wife could call me back as soon as you can. Thank you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks on the other end of the phone but it sounds faint because Louis is too distracted by scrambling across the bed to the console. The number flickers _1_ and Louis’ hovers his finger over the play button, wondering for a split second if it’s over stepping a line if he listens to Niall’s voicemail. He can hear Harry talking away, tinny and distant in his hand and Niall change onto The Pogues in the kitchen, his voice kicking up a notch as it slips easily back into a stronger accent. 

Louis hates himself for it but his thumb presses resolutely down against the button and the click is loud to his ear, the three seconds it takes for it to start to play is too long and Louis can feel a prick of sweat at the nape of his neck. 

“Morning Mr Horan, there’s a few things I’d like to talk to you about the latest set of test results so if you or your wife could call me back as soon as you can. Thank you.” 

Louis can feel himself start to freak out, the sparks of panic in the base of his belly and the way he wants to be jittery with the burst of adrenaline. He thumbs at his phone, hanging up on Harry rudely and staggers back towards the bed, pristine in a slightly taunting way - why did he bother?

His shoes seem to take an age to pull on, fingers fumbling over laces and his toes jamming into the side of the canvas instead of just sliding in like normal. 

Niall’s belting out the final lines of Fairy Tale of New York when Louis gets back into the kitchen and realises he’s been singing Christmas songs all afternoon without Louis noticing it. 

He beams at him when he reaches the kitchen door, spinning around to model off his apron. 

“Dinner’ll be up soon, promise,” he looks sheepish, peering over his shoulder at the saucepans as they bubble along quietly on the stove. 

Louis must not look as panicked as he feels so he edges into the kitchen without answering him, pocketing his phone and looking around absently for his stuff. 

“I’ve made roast potatoes, do a proper Sunday lunch. Then I found this mix from Christmas a few years ago, I can’t wait for the winter,” Niall’s nattering away and Louis’ only half paying attention because he’s too preoccupied with how much stuff he’s managed to move into Niall’s house in the past week. He scoops up his wallet from beside the bread bin and his watch from above the fridge. He knows his favourite shirt is currently going round and round in Niall’s washing machine and holy fucking shit Niall is married.

“Where are you off to?”

Louis pauses, hand hovering over his jacket where it's slung over the back of the chair. His mind is all a muddle but at the same time perfectly blank. “I think I should probably head home.” 

Niall’s face falls as he sets the bowl in his hand down on the kitchen table. “Why?“ He's frowning and Louis stomach twists because he doesn't want to have to make Niall look like that even though there’s the familiar swell of anger thrumming through his veins. “What’s happened?“ Niall asks again, eyebrows dipping further. The music slips into Mariah Carey and Louis couldn’t hate Christmas time more. 

“Your phone rang,” Louis mumbles instead and fiddles with the cuff of his jumper. It's an old one that he had nearly forgotten he owned and the sleeves are too long, wool loosening and gaping around his hands. He twists at it and pulls them down over his fists so he has something to do other than glance up. 

“Yeah?” Niall asks but Louis can hear the trepidation behind the words now and he can’t help bit glance up to see the way something’s building behind his eyes. It’s like a wariness and he’s spread his hands, likes he's already working his way up to placate him. “And was it anyone interesting?“ 

He sounds nervous, the words sticking in his throat and Louis thinks that it would make him more angry if he could in fact feel _anything._ He just feels sort of hollow instead, mourning the loss of the shirt he‘s going to have to leave behind. 

“It was uh,” Louis curls his hands tighter. He feels awkward bringing it up but he shouldn’t - he’s done nothing wrong for fucks sake. “It was, uh, it was about your wife.”

Niall makes a noise from the back of his throat and then Louis nods, tilting his face down to stare at the kitchen tiles. He isn’t sure why he’s still there. He hardly knows Niall in the grand scheme of things, he should just walk away and never see him again. Treat it like a fling, a fun couple of fucks to get over Liam and he can be on his merry way. 

Except his heart feels like it's breaking all over again and his feet feel frozen to the ground, betraying him and making him endure this a second time round in as many months. 

“It’s not what you think,” Niall sputters and it’s like déjà vu. He’s been hearing that phrase far too much lately.

“Yeah?” Louis snaps and turns on his heel, feet finally becoming unglued. Mariah hits her high note and the washing machine goes into the spin. It’s a wall of noise and he turns his back to him before Niall can see his pulled expression. “It’s never what _I_ think right?”

“Lou,” Niall calls after him, voice drowned out by the shake of the washer and doesn’t make any attempt to follow him out the door, the slam of it reverberating behind him as Louis storms onto the street. 

And then he’s out in the cold evening air, biting around his neck because he’s left his coat behind after all. He stops so suddenly on the footpath outside his feet catch on the slabs and he has to clutch at the railing to Niall’s house. He thinks about going back and getting it, but his chest feels tight and the blood is pumping fast in his ears so he unclenches his hand and walks on, coat and shirt and half of his heart left behind him in Niall’s kitchen.

It’s dark by the time he gets home, or rather gets to Harry’s home. He wandered around town, taking the longest route he could think of to get from Niall’s to Harry’s. His fingers are freezing, bunched into the cuff of his jumper that did nothing to combat the growing wind as it got later and darker. He side steps the living room door, the slice of light creeping under the door telling him that Harry's still up. He isn't sure if he can deal with that now, his eyes feel tight like they could close at any moment and he trudges up the stairs as quietly as his sleep clumsy feet will allow him. 

He falls face first onto his bed, kicking off his shoes and jeans but leaving the jumper on. It still smells of Niall’s shampoo, fruity around the collar and as he tucks his nose under the collar until he finds something more musky lingering below. It reminds him of Liam and it shouldn't be as reassuring as it feels but he can't help sighing into it, inhaling slowly as his eyes flutter shut before he has the chance to cry. 

*

Four missed calls and one solitary voicemail awaits him when Louis manages to charge his phone again and it‘s such a stark contrast to Liam that it makes Louis sag with relief, belly crunching with a wave of nausea that he swallows down with the lump in his throat. 

He’d taken a day, a long drawn out day where he sank back into his old habit of trudging from the guest room and into Harry’s sleep warm space to watch as he got ready for work and then doze until he could watch Holly Willoughby giggle at the end of This Morning and sink himself into a day full of antiquing and general knowledge.

Harry doesn’t ask, just brushes his lips over the sweaty smear of Louis’ forehead with a whispered, “go shower,” on the second day and presses a charger into his hand before he’s out the door in a whirl of pretty cologne and paperwork. 

_“Louis, I’d really rather do this in person, mate,”_ Niall’s voice pauses on the other end of the phone and Louis pushes it closer to his ear until the corner of his phone is making a dent into his cheek. _“It’s not what you think.”_ Another heaving breath. _“But I know I’ve been a twat about it, so if you’d come downstairs and open the door that would be great thanks.”_

Louis doesn’t move. It’s mid afternoon and he isn’t sure when the message was left, he’d have to listen to it again and isn’t worried enough about the time to put himself through having to hear Niall’s wrecked voice again. It makes him want to give in and forget all about it because Niall had made him happy for a split second, happier than he had been for months and only a day of wallowing is making him yearn for that again. 

To see his smile and listen to the way he laughs and he wants to be back on his bed, listening as Niall belts out Christmas tunes before it’s even Halloween because he just sounds so happy when he’s singing. 

But then he thinks about it. That despairing feeling of disappointment when he realised that Niall had let him down.

There’s a clatter from downstairs, the bang of the front door and some low talking, then a shout. 

“Louis!” It’s Harry and Louis doesn’t move because Harry won’t have expected him to. He only rolls over, star fishing out across his bed because he can and he sort of wants to give the impression that he’s moved somewhat during the day even though he hasn’t. 

“There’s someone on the doorstep for you,” Harry smiles at him and it’s only the fact that Niall hasn’t been chewed up by Harry’s protective streak that makes him sit up. He must’ve said something to save himself from Harry’s claws. 

“What does he want?” Louis asks him warily and mutes the TV. Harry’s stripping out of his suit, quick like it’s burning him before he’s crawling onto the bed. 

“To apologise probably,” Harry murmurs, cuddling close, nose to his temple and a palm pushing under the duvet to lie against his sternum. “He looks very sorry sitting out on the doorstep.” 

“He can sit there,” Louis mutters but it’s lacking the bitterness it should. Harry smiles gently at him. 

“He’s married Harry,” Louis confesses a moment later and Harry’s face slips a bit. “He’s married and he hadn’t told me and I don’t know how to deal with that. How is this any better than me and Liam. He’s got someone else just like Liam has.” Louis takes a deep breath and closes his eyes because his voice is going to break, he knows it is, “But now, now I’m also the _other man_ , that poor woman Harry. All I can keep thinking about is how he‘s married and how I just desperately wish he wasn‘t so I can keep him for myself. Even though he‘s done this, I don‘t want to let him go.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters and Louis is at just as much of a loss of what to say. His stomach rolls and he feels sick again. 

“I’m so angry at him,” Louis sighs because he is, he’s exhausted with it. “And at myself, what type of person am I if I just keep letting this happen to me?” 

“Hey,” Harry coos and brushes his thumb against Louis’ chin to make him turn his head to meet him. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you just fall hard and fast and you always have. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the absolute best from whoever you fall for in return.”

Louis nods and turns his head away because Harry looks like he could break into sentimental crap at any moment and Louis doesn’t need it on top of everything else today, he'll cry and he's not sure if he has any tears left. 

“You still need to talk to him though,” Harry says quietly a moment later. “Whatever way it’s going you can’t leave him out on the doorstep and keep yourself in here worrying about it.” 

“I know,” Louis sighs and moves his legs so he can work his way further into Harry’s hug. “I just need to work myself up to it. It‘s like twisting the knife going out there to do this all over again.” 

“You’re already out there, you’ve made the decision already.” Harry whispers into his ear and smudges his lips against his temple. 

He’s right, Louis knows he’s right and with a sense of dread he pulls himself out of bed. “This won’t take long.” 

“I’ll be here waiting on you,” Harry promises and gives him a reassuring smile. 

Louis catches himself in the mirror that hangs next to the front door, hair greasy and in a pair of threadbare sweats he’s had for years but he pulls open the door anyway because if he’s going to break up with his not-so-much-boyfriend-but-I-wish-you-were then he doesn’t care what he looks like. 

Niall looks up at him quickly and jumps off the step as soon as he realises it’s him and not Harry. He looks damp and Louis wonders how long he’s been sitting outside in the drizzling rain. 

“Louis, I -” Niall starts but Louis cuts him off because Harry’s nosy neighbour is already twitching her blinds at them and he doesn’t want to be reminded of this in three weeks time when he’s taking in the milk. 

They walk down the street in silence, heading towards the coffee shop near the bus stop but Louis changes direction because he has no wallet with him and he’s not going to allow Niall to buy him coffee, not now. 

“You’re a dickhead you know that?” Louis tells him once they’ve made it as far as the bridge round the corner from Harry’s. It lies over a train track so there isn’t even anything pretty to look at it while they do this. “A prick, selfish twat, tosser -” Louis’ voice is getting louder and he can’t find enough swearwords to convey how pissed off he is, “ - a complete fucking wankbucket!”

Niall smiles a bit at that and Louis explodes. “Don’t smile you fuck, this isn’t funny. I’ve been through too much crap for you to piss about too.”

“Alright,” Niall finally replies with a hand up to placate him. “Calm down and -”

“ _Married?_ “ Louis exclaims. “You’re fucking married and you’re telling me to calm down?” 

Niall pulls a face and takes a step forward. It makes sense for Louis to take a step back so he does and puts a foot between them. 

“You know all this shit went down with Liam,” Louis waves a hand around. He’s aware he looks a bit hysterical but it feels like the rug’s been pulled out from under him and it’s far worse than when he caught Liam all that time ago. “I can’t believe that _I’m_ the other man now! I can‘t believe I _told_ you all that stuff and all this time I‘ve been taken for a mug because you‘ve been doing the exact same thing. That makes you a complete and utter cunt in my book.” 

Niall shakes his head, stepping forward until Louis’ back hit’s the wall to the bridge and he can go no further except sideways. 

“You’re not the other man,” Niall tells him sincerely. There’s water dribbling over his chin and Louis has to look away. “You weren’t and never will be. Please believe me when I say that.” 

“How can I believe you?” Louis asks and he sounds defeated. “How can I ever believe that.” 

“I’m not married,” Niall confesses and twists his face. “I am but I’m not. Not really. We’re separated, haven’t been together in well over a year.” 

“What?” Louis asks and shakes his head. “Why are people phoning looking to discuss things with your _wife_ then?”

Niall heaves a sigh and runs his hand over his face, shaking out the water just to get rained on again. “We got married so young, I didn’t know what I was doing and thought she was the one and then we realised it wasn’t working and then broke up. Simple as that, I got a lawyer and just as we were going to break it to the family her mum got sick. There’s just a lot on her plate right now so she hasn’t said to her and she’s still my friend so I’m helping her with the hospital stuff so most of the doctors think we’re still married. I don‘t love her, not like that and never will.”

Louis swallows it all down. It sounds like it could well be made up but there’s something in Niall’s eyes and the way he’s nearly pleading with him to believe that makes Louis’ resolve waver. 

“I swear Louis,” Niall implores. “I’ll never talk to her ever again if it’ll help.” 

It won’t really and when he opens his mouth to tell him that won’t be necessary Niall pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“I swear, I won’t!” He looks a bit manic for a moment and then chucks his phone over the bridge. Louis stares at him stunned before snorting. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asks and Niall blinks at him, equally as stunned. 

“No idea,” he shrugs but doesn’t laugh. He takes a deep breath and is serious again. “I promise Louis, there’s nothing going on anymore.” 

“And me?” Louis asks, sucker for punishment.

“You know I’m no good with all this feelings shite,” Niall complains and catches Louis’ wrist to stop him from escaping. A bus pulls up and a few people get off so they press themselves to the wall and stay quiet until they hurry down the path when the wind picks up.

“I’m not asking you to be good at it,” Louis defends himself, rounding his shoulders against the wind. 

Niall’s face breaks into a soft smile, eyes blinking away awkwardness. “And you,” he says nearly too soft and shy. “And you came along and were lovely and handsome and made me laugh. But you were sad, far sadder than you deserved and I just wanted to make it right.” Niall steps forward but Louis’ frozen and doesn’t want to step away from him this time. “How could I tell you all that? Burden you with all that drama when you had so much of your own and I just wanted you to forget about it? Just wanted to get to know you and have fun and forget about everything else but the way you made me feel.” 

There’s a lump growing in Louis’ throat and a huge part of him tells him to ignore it all, stick to his guns and tell Niall to fuck right off but he’s stepping into the wet circle of his arms and pressing up against him instead. Niall makes a noise, breath hot in his ear and he’s hugging him close to him, tension draining out of his shoulders.

“I think I’m-” Niall tells him into his ear and Louis can hardly hear over the thud of his head and the torrent of rain. “I haven’t felt like this ever before.” 

Louis nods against him, having no words to tell him that he feels exactly the same way. He hugs him tighter instead and hopes that Niall understands. Niall watches him with wide eyes as Louis pulls back, breathing against his skin as he turns his head just enough to catch the corner of his mouth. 

Niall falls into it though, a hand moving round to grip at Louis’ neck in a mark of possessiveness as he kisses him properly, hot lips against his own before licking across the seam of his bottom lip. Louis gasps into it, grabbing a handful of Niall’s sodding coat to keep himself upright as Niall bites at his bottom lip and they sway, tortuously slow into the wall of the bridge, brick biting into the base of Louis’ back. He pulls him closer, propping himself up so he can work a thigh between Niall’s and he can rock against him, kissing him deeper and clutching him tighter. 

“We’ll cause a scene,” Louis warns him when Niall breaks away from him, panting hard into the dip between Louis neck and with a grin be hugs him tighter. 

“Harry’ll be a mess you know,” Niall whispers to him, trying to huddle him into his coat. Louis laughs against his neck, rubbing his lips over where he’s damp. “He’ll think I’ve kidnapped you in your pyjamas and chained you up in my basement.” 

“I better phone him,” Louis mutters with a twinge of a smile. “Make sure he doesn’t cry all night at my absence.” 

“Tell him to not wait up,” Niall tells him, eyebrows raising into a waggle. “I have a plan that might involve a real wank bucket, whatever that is.” 

Louis laughs at him, ducking in to peck at his lips before wrenching away from him. “Can you not phone him whilst hugging me?” he complains but lets Louis twist out of his grip. 

“Phone’s dead, I’ll use a phone box.” Louis points over to the shadowy across the street near the bus stop.

“Christ,” Niall snorts. “We really are roughing it aren’t we?”

Louis shakes his head and glances over his shoulder to grin at him. “Well if you hadn’t chucked your phone over a bridge -”

“It was a grand gesture!” Niall defends himself quickly. Louis laughs again, eyes crinkling at him. “Here, Lou.” 

“Yeah?” he asks turning his head to look at him. 

He feels a bit woozy, like his head isn’t connected to his body properly. There’s that feeling in his belly again, the cramp at the base of his spine and it stings pleasantly as it makes its way up through his side. 

“I love you y’know.” 

Louis looks up again, smoothing a hand over his hip to grin over at Niall. He still looks like a drowned rat but he grins at him again and it’s quite fitting that it’s the last thing he sees before Niall’s shout drowns out all the sound in the world and he blacks out as the car hits him.  
*


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

He feels drained. Which is impressive considering he's spent the past week and a half lying in various states of drunkenness in Harry's spare bed. He hasn't slept all that well in the past few days, especially last night because he's dreading going back to the flat today to get the last of his stuff. He half hopes that Liam isn't there so he doesn't have to see him because he's missing him something fierce and Harry's given him enough pep talks all week for him to stay strong and not go back to him but if he sees him, Louis isn’t sure how strong he’ll be. 

His arm feels funny with the cast off, too light and sensitive against the cuff of his jacket. His skin is soft and the nurse had given him a splint to use if his wrist was feeling weak but Louis had just shoved it into his pocket, knowing full well he’d never use it. 

“Hold the lift!” Comes a yell from down the corridor. Louis rolls his eyes, he doesn’t have time to wait about. He’s pushed aside as someone crashes through the doors, squeezing in before they shut properly. They stop of course, shudder and open again automatically due to the sensors before trying to close again and adding a whole half minute to their journey down to the ground floor. 

“Sorry,” the man grins at him and runs a hand through his hair. He seems familiar but Louis can’t place his face as he scans over his features, pretty eyes and an even prettier grin. “Thanks for holding it for me, my parking ticket’s going to run out any minute now.” 

He laughs to himself and leans against the wall of the lift. It stops on the third floor to let a nurse in and the guy straightens up a bit, biting his lip to stop his grin and even though he has no idea what’s funny he can’t help smiling too. 

“Hey,” he laughs at the glum expression of the nurse. “Y’know what the Python boys always say?” 

The nurse shrugs, not bothering with a response. She looks tired and Louis gets the feeling she doesn’t like to talk to any unnecessary patients when she’s about to clock out of work. 

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Louis joins in with him on the punch line and freezes. He doesn’t know where that came from, he hadn’t been a huge fan of the show but he can feel a flicker of a memory at the joke.

He looks up at him, the lift jolting to a stop again to the let the nurse out again but Louis hardly notices, because suddenly he knows that he’s met this boy before. 

He thrusts his hand out and Louis finds himself gripping it tight. Not even in a handshake, more like fingers interlocking together in their haste to join. 

“Hey,” he says slowly as the lift starts to shudder upwards again and Louis can nearly predict his words. He can feel his stomach start to somersault in his belly, rolling with the jolts of the lift. “I’m Niall.”


End file.
